The Dark Lord's Rose
by MissRoseAlanaHorton
Summary: She knew she loved him too much for her own good. She knew that no matter what seemingly unthinkable thing he did tomorrow or the next day, she would desperately try to wrap her head and heart around it in an attempt to understand. And there were only two ways that could possibly end: either she would break him, or he would break her. TRXOC. Lemons. AU-ish. LONG.
1. Part I - The Facade

**I know that my summary to this story is vague, but it's intentionally so. Like I said, this is going to be a LONG, seven part story and there will be LOTS of twists and turns. This is not a "two people meet, fall in love, and live happily ever after" type of story. It's a mix of canon and non-canon events, but I'm going to try my best to keep the characters as close to their canon versions as possible. It will be quite AU in later chapters because what's the point in writing a fanfic if you could just as well read the book?!**

**And as a forewarning: in Part I, Tom is a bit OOC, which needed to happen. I have two words for you: character development. This story is going to be 350 chapters long, so trust me, I have plenty of time to turn him into the Tom Riddle we love to hate. (And don't worry, it won't take anywhere close to 350 chapters to do so - like I said, it's mainly going to be in Part I).**

**Oh, and I'm just going to say this once: the only thing I own are my OCs! Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling. With all of that said, I present: **_**The Dark Lord's Rose**_**.**

* * *

The Façade

_September 5, 1943_

"We are going to have to make some improvements this year. Headmaster Dippet was not pleased with the way students were running rampant after dark last year. It's your responsibility as Prefects to ensure that the students in your house are in their dormitories at the appropriate time," said Vincent Bryan, the Hogwarts Head Boy.

Rosemary played with her long, dark red braid and avoided making eye contact with Vincent after the comment, as she knew that it was directed at her. She was likely the least strict Prefect in Ravenclaw, frequently breaking curfew herself to attend numerous parties that the Slytherin boys hosted throughout the years. Thankfully, Vincent had yet to inform Headmaster Dippet of her disobedience. She suspected that this was because of the time she didn't turn him in after catching him purchasing a forbidden charmed quill to use on his O.W.L.'s.

Her eyes wandered around the train compartment while she waited for Vincent to change the subject. The Prefects from each house were present and in various states of paying attention. Almost everyone looked relatively blank and unconscious from the droning of the Head Boy and Girl. Well, everyone except for Tom Riddle, who sat up straight in his seat and gave Vincent his undivided attention. It was somewhat surprising that Rosemary didn't find this annoying- usually she hated the "teacher's pet" types. Perhaps it was because Riddle wasn't just _acting _a certain way to please an authority figure. Rather, he seemed to constantly carry an air of genuine politeness and formality. It wasn't an act; it was just part of who he was. Or at least that was her perception.

It was for this same reason, his air of stringent formality, that they had barely spoken in their first five years at Hogwarts. Rosemary had never seen him act anything but serious. This was true even when Riddle was with Markus Avery, Tom's closest friend and Rosemary's boyfriend of two years.

She turned her attention back to Vincent, who gave them some last minute reminders regarding their Prefect duties and finally dismissed them. Rosemary left the compartment and made her way to the back of the train, looking for her friends.

She spotted Faye, her closest friend, talking to some of their Ravenclaw classmates inside one of the compartments and poked her head in. "Hey everyone", she greeted them and then looked at Faye. "Want to go find Markus and Adam?"

She smiled and nodded. Rosemary knew that Faye had been waiting for this moment all afternoon. Faye had been infatuated with Adam Lestrange for years, so Rose often invited her along when she made plans with Avery.

"I haven't seen him _all _summer," Faye sighed, fixing her pixie-cut, light blonde hair in her compact mirror as they walked. "Do you think he's seeing anyone? I heard rumors that he and Olive Hornby have been snogging all summer in Spain."

"I haven't a clue," Rosemary said. It wasn't exactly true. She had heard the rumors and Markus had confirmed them somewhat, but she didn't see the point in telling Faye. It would only serve to upset her. Besides, summer flings were always so short-lived; it was likely that nothing would come of it anyway.

They walked down the corridor together until they reached a particularly rambunctious compartment. "Bloody hell," Faye hissed as they looked in. "I don't want to spend the whole train ride with them." Markus Avery and Adam Lestrange seemed to be telling some entertaining story as two Slytherin girls giggled uncontrollably: Olive Hornby and her best friend, Rebecca Orion. Riddle was the fifth member of the compartment, but he did not participate in their jovial conversation; his attention was already buried in a sizable book.

"It'll be fine," Rose forced a smile at Faye, but she was equally as annoyed. Orion was beginning to make a habit of showing up wherever Avery did.

"Oh, there's my Rosie!" Markus exclaimed as she opened the door. Rose leaned down to kiss him on the cheek and he pulled her into his lap.

Rebecca tossed her jet black hair over her shoulder and began talking in a fake, sickly sweet voice that made Rose's skin crawl. "You two are so sweet. I can't believe you aren't tired of each other after spending the entire summer together!"

"Not at all," Rose said coolly, looking Rebecca directly in the eye. "I mean, it _is _a tradition with our families." It was true; the Horton's and Avery's had always been close friends and spent summers together at their vacation homes in St. Ives.

Rebecca narrowed her eyes slightly and stood to leave with Olive close behind her. "Well, we're off to catch up with Julie and Amanda. We'll see you at dinner and more importantly, at the party tonight. Right boys?" She gave a flirty look to Markus before leaving the compartment.

The exchange with Rebecca bothered her more after what she had discovered over the summer. She swept the unpleasant memories from her mind, telling herself that this would be a new year and that everything would change for the better. Still, Rose couldn't keep herself from giving Markus an annoyed look and saying sarcastically, "Oh, so a party? Thank you for the invite, dear."

He gave her an amused look. "Don't cause a fuss. We only just decided while you were in your Prefect meeting." She continued looking at him with a pout and he responded by fiercely tickling her sides. As Rose burst into a fit of giggles, she caught Faye and Adam exchanging eye-rolls at their affection.

* * *

"Oh, Ogden, my love, how I've missed you!" Faye grinned and unscrewed the cap of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, taking a long swig and passing it to Adam. Rose shuddered; she hadn't been able to drink firewhiskey since she had gotten sick from it the year before.

There were at least forty Slytherins gathered in the cramped common room, plus two Ravenclaws: Rose and Faye. They had banished most of the younger students to their dormitories for the night, leaving mainly the fifth through seventh years. By the time they could sneak Rose and Faye into the Slytherin common room, many of their classmates were clearly drunk already. Given the amount of alcohol in the room, Rosemary found it hard to believe that Adam and Markus had just come up with the idea for the party on the train. Of course, Olive and Rebecca were close by, making spectacles of themselves as per usual, dancing drunkenly to the music someone had put on.

"I could really have gone without seeing those tarts here," Faye shook her head, a look of disgust spreading over her features.

"I have not had nearly enough to drink to deal with these people…" Rose agreed just as Markus approached her with a plentiful glass of gin, served neat. She drank quickly and felt it warm her entire body. Only a minute or two later, she refilled her glass and repeated its rapid depletion. She put her glass down and told herself that she wouldn't drink any more, knowing that it would hit her hard in a few minutes.

It had definitely begun to hit her when Adam walked up to Markus with a somewhat worried look on his face. "Do you think we should get everyone to quiet down a bit? Riddle said something about going to bed early…"

Before Markus had a chance to respond, Rose interjected. "Why, are you afraid he'll tell on you? Why isn't he down here, anyway? We should go get him and show him what he's missing out on!"

A look of panic crossed both of their faces and Rose couldn't figure out why they cared so much. It was something about being drunk, though, that made it amusing to get a rise out of them. She turned and bolted up the steps toward Markus and Adam's dormitory, which they shared with Riddle.

"Rose, stop!" Markus tried to grab her arm, but she was too quick for him. She burst through the dormitory door, laughing as she evaded him, and locked it behind her so Adam and Markus couldn't stop her.

* * *

Finally, Tom was back from the Welcoming Feast and Sorting Ceremony and had settled into his dormitory. He sat at his desk and began removing the many charms he had placed on the familiar, leather-bound diary to prevent others from discovering his most guarded thoughts. It was filled with his plans for his sixth year at Hogwarts including his strategy for securing the Head Boy position for the following year. It would be a busy year; that much was certain.

He was annoyed when his thoughts were once again interrupted by the commotion growing in the common room. "They're worthless," he sighed to himself, thinking of Avery and Lestrange, the masterminds behind the soiree. They seemed to have no motivation to speak of unless it involved a woman or some form of intoxicant. At the very least, they were loyal to him and it was easy to manipulate them. He thought about going downstairs and threatening them all to quiet down, but with Slughorn as their Head of House, it wasn't as though anyone had to worry about facing any sort of real punishment for their party. When it came to his beloved Slytherins, Slughorn was the biggest pushover in the history of professors.

Tom was interrupted from his thoughts once more when he heard the door open and slam. He spun around, shoving the diary in one of his desk drawers. Tom expected to be annoyed at the cause of the disturbance, thinking it was one of his dorm-mates. But when he saw Avery's girlfriend, Rosemary Horton, he was instead simply confused and surprised.

"Miss Horton?" Tom greeted her, allowing some of his confusion to leak into his voice and began to walk toward her. She was catching her breath a bit as though she had been running from someone, or something. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Well, I'm sorry if I've bothered you, but I was wondering if you'd like join us downstairs?"

Now he was even more confused; he wondered if Avery or Lestrange had simply sent her up here to make sure he wasn't too upset about the get-together and told her to use the invitation as an excuse. He offered a polite smile and said "Thank you, but I have a full day of class tomorrow and should finish preparing."

She smirked a bit and crossed her arms over her chest. "Like you need to prepare, Riddle. Avery told me you were the only other student besides me that scored an "O" on every O.W.L. last year."

Tom was surprised yet again. "_You_ were the other student?" He knew that she was cleverer than even the average Ravenclaw, especially in Potions wherein they had been partners a few times, but had no idea that their O.W.L. scores had been the same.

"Don't act so surprised," she said. He was about to apologize for his rudeness when she grinned and he was thankful that she hadn't taken offense. Tom found staying in the good graces of his peers and professors at Hogwarts a necessary burden, but exhausting nonetheless. "Anyway, if you come downstairs, I'll fill you in on what we're brewing Potions tomorrow. I was talking to Lydia Bogg – she's Slughorn's seventh-year assistant – and she told me about some very interesting ingredients that he picked out. Plus, he has that exam over our summer readings at the beginning of class now that we're at N.E.W.T. level…"

Tom felt torn; he really just wanted to be alone, but it was tempting to get a head start into Slughorn's lesson plans. The first potion of the term always seemed exceptionally challenging and the short exam given at the beginning of the class period would determine their potions partner for the rest of the semester. The students with the highest grades would get paired up to ensure that the slackers couldn't just elect to work with someone with more talent.

He begrudgingly agreed and followed her into the chaos. Avery and Lestrange were at the bottom of the stairs and looking at him in varying states of confusion and worry. It was clear they weren't quite sure how to proceed, but Rosemary led him away from them. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw her give them a look of satisfaction. "Now, let's get you a drink," she said. As he followed her, he felt several pairs of eyes on him. It probably seemed odd to see him there; while he made every effort to be outwardly polite and charming, he kept to himself and didn't typically bother with social functions. They worked their way through the crowd and arrived on the other side of the common room, where rows of liquor sat on a long table.

The crowd was so loud that he had to strain to hear her, even though she was speaking quite loudly. "Unfortunately, most of this is gone, so you pretty much only have two choices: Ogden's Old or Beefeater?"

Tom had never been drunk, much less had he even tasted alcohol. He had no idea what either of these were, but given his admittedly arrogant nature, he didn't exactly want to advertise his ignorance. He asked for Beefeater simply because he found the name to be more interesting.

"Excellent choice," she beamed, displaying two rows of perfectly straight, white teeth. "Gin is my favorite." She poured him a glass, added a couple of ice cubes, and handed it over. He raised it to his lips and took a small sip.

_Disgusting_. _How can anyone stand to drink this?_

He knew he wouldn't be able to sip this leisurely all night so he drank it as quickly as he could, cringing slightly at the aftertaste. When it was gone though, he noticed that a nice warmth spread through his body. "Well, you're catching up already!" She took his glass and refilled it before he could protest. "I'll have another too. I told myself I wouldn't, but you know how that goes…"

He didn't, of course, but he nodded and gave her a small smile anyway. It felt odd to talk with her without Avery or Lestrange around; he had only spoken a few times with her over their previous five years at Hogwarts.

Rosemary seemed to notice the many pairs of eyes glancing in his direction because she said with a smirk, "I think there are quite a few Slytherin girls here that would very much like it if you asked them to dance."

Tom surely didn't have an interest in _that_. He glanced over his shoulder and a group of three or four fifth year girls burst into a fit of giggles. He was aware that he was attractive by most standards and had dealt with his fair share of girls somewhat throwing themselves at him, but he loathed their shameless desperation. The last thing he wanted to do was encourage that sort of behavior. "I'd rather not," he told her. "We should discuss what you found out about the Potions lesson."

"Of course, let's go over there so we don't have to scream over the music." Rosemary pointed to a couple of free seats on the side of the common room that seemed the least crowded.

They sat down next to each other and for a few moments, neither of them said anything as they observed the other party-goers. He was about to open his mouth and say something about the Potions lesson again when, suddenly, she gestured in the direction of Avery, who was talking animatedly and laughing about something with Rebecca Orion. "I know that he's been cheating on me all summer with her. I was outside one night at our vacation home in St. Ives and I saw him sneak her into his place, which is right next door."

She spoke so matter-of-factly and this puzzled him. He had never been in a relationship – nor did he have any desire or the time for that sort of thing – but her reaction was odd. Tom wasn't quite sure what to say; he certainly couldn't empathize with her situation, but he offered: "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Oh, you didn't know? Since you two are so close, I thought he would have told you." She took another drink from her glass. He thought that it was possible Avery had confided in him at some point on the subject, but Tom hadn't bothered to remember. He discouraged his own involvement in anyone's personal life, mostly because he just didn't care.

"You don't seem bothered," he commented.

"No, I suppose I'm not too bothered. The only troubling side of it is that she keeps making an appearance every time I'm with him. It seems like she should at least have the decency to try and conceal his infidelity." As she spoke more she sounded even more detached, as if her words were weightless. Though he hadn't spent much time around her in the first place, Tom realized that he had never seen her in a cynical mood; it was such a sharp contrast to her usual lighthearted nature. "I don't love him anyway, at least not in that sense. I've known him since I was a child. I don't have any siblings and he's really more of a brother. We're together because our parents want us to be. In the beginning, I think we tried to tell ourselves that it was more, but that's really the truth of it."

If he didn't know what to say before, now Tom _really_ didn't know what to say. If she truly felt this way, he wondered why she wouldn't just break things off with Avery. He was grappling with his own curiosity and the fact that he knew he should avoid involvement in their personal lives at all cost. At the same time, he was struck by her honesty and felt as though the Rosemary Horton he had been acquainted with during his time at Hogwarts thus far was simply a relatively likeable façade for these cynicisms to hide behind. This was not unlike his _own _persona that he put on display for the world to see.

Tom realized that these were odd thoughts for him to entertain and he attributed it to the alcohol running through his vasculature. If he were sober, he likely wouldn't have listened to a word that she said. Thankfully, she saved him from coming up with something reassuring, or at least not too off-putting, to say. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure what's gotten into me. You shouldn't have to listen to my complaining, especially since you're his friend. I shouldn't have put you in that position. Please don't mention any of this to Avery."

"Of course not," he said. Once again, Tom had no intention of getting involved with their issues.

"Thank you." She gave him a small, sad smile. After pausing for a second or two to finish the last of her drink, she said, "Anyway, let me tell you what Bogg said about our Potions lesson tomorrow." He watched her as her face seemed to brighten and the cheerful façade returned; she was sporting her mask once more.

* * *

_"Here's to alcohol, the rose-colored glasses of life." – F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

**Well, I hope you liked it so far! Please review! Just to warn you, many of the quotes that I post along with each chapter will be from works by F. Scott Fitzgerald and they **_**will **_**be cheesy at times! I'll be back in a week with Chapter 2, titled **_**Only Joking**_**.**


	2. Part I - Only Joking

**So, I know I said it would be a week before I posted again, but I couldn't help myself! I ended up with more time to write than I expected. Enjoy(:**

**Oh and thank you, mysterious guest user, for the first review of this story!**

* * *

Only Joking

_September 6, 1943_

Rosemary was finishing getting ready for class when Faye finally woke up. She was the only one in her dormitory that was taking sixth-year Herbology, so her roommates got extra time to sleep in on Mondays. Rose didn't mind – she had always been an early riser.

"So, last night was interesting," Faye said groggily after a momentous yawn.

"How so? I lost track of you and Lestrange," Rose said, while the memories of the previous evening came flooding back.

"Well I noticed that you were with Tom Riddle more than you were with Avery. That was certainly odd. Since when are you friends?"

It was true, she had spent most of it talking to Tom; he hadn't stayed at the party for long, but she ended up going back to her dormitory when he went back upstairs to bed. Avery and Rebecca wouldn't stop flirting and she was tired of it being pushed in her face. Suddenly, her stomach dropped with embarrassment when she remembered that she had told Tom about her relationship issues. She realized that she had never even told Faye something that personal. Rose recognized that she would have to be a bit more cautious in the future when combining drinking with a pondering mood. Still, even with the fact that Tom was one of her boyfriend's best friends, he had at least listened to her and hadn't seemed too bothered by her. "He was actually really good to talk to."

"Please stop," Faye rolled her eyes. "Mr. Tom Stick-Up-His-Arse Riddle was 'really good to talk to'? You may as well have been talking to a wall. He's too quiet...Come to think of it, it's kind of creepy."

"Well I think that it was a pleasant surprise. Maybe he's just shy," Rose shrugged, not putting much weight into her friend's words. She finished gathering the books she would need that day. "Anyway, I've got to get going. I'll see you in Potions later."

On the way to Herbology, Markus stopped her in the hall. "Good morning, beautiful." He sounded jumpy and nervous and she suspected that he likely had sneaked away from the party to fool around with Rebecca after Rose went back to the Ravenclaw dormitories. He leaned in to kiss her and she returned it with the smallest peck she could without tipping him off to the fact that she knew of his deception. "Why did you leave so early last night?"

He didn't even wait for her to respond before running a hand through his dark blonde hair and saying, "Ah, sorry. I have to get going. I'll save you a spot in Potions later; hopefully Slughorn puts us together." He smiled at her and kissed her again. He hurried away as she sighed, annoyed with him once again. She pushed it from her mind and continued her trek outside to the Herbology greenhouses. The early-morning mist had yet to dissipate and she enjoyed the feeling of the cool fall air against her skin.

By contrast, the greenhouse was positively stuffy and borderline suffocating. Rose looked around for a familiar face and saw Warren Cramer, a fellow Raveclaw Prefect that also happened to be the Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team. He looked in her direction and gave her a somewhat groggy smile and a wave, so she went to sit next to him.

"It's much too early to concern ourselves with shrubbery, don't you think?" He said with a yawn.

She laughed. "Well you managed to make it here on time; early, in fact." Many of their classmates had yet to arrive and one or two would trickle in with each passing minute. "So, how was your summer Cramer?"

He seemed to brighten immediately. "I interned in the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry. It was bloody amazing." He launched into a lengthy account of his various experiences in the department and Rosemary listened intently.

Soon, though, they were interrupted by Professor Beery. He spoke in his usual, overly-theatrical way, announcing that they would be working with the Sopophorous plants that morning in an annoyingly grandiose way. Beery explained that they would work in partners to procure the beans from the plant in an exacting procedure to prevent their damage. The beans they acquired would be used to stock the Potions storeroom.

Warren retrieved a plant for the two of them to share while Rose gathered their tools. First, the plant had to be sprayed with a Calming Draught. After that, they would have to work quickly with a pair of tweezers to locate and pluck the miniscule beans. Then there was another process entirely to clean and preserve the picked beans.

"You may have to handle the tweezers," he told her. He could barely hold them in his large hands. "I'll make sure the plant has enough Calming Draught. I swear, I'm not a complete oaf all of the time."

She laughed and took the tweezers in her comparably dainty fingers, appreciating his amusing nature. It was a pleasant distraction from her thoughts of Markus and Rebecca, which had plagued her mind all morning.

They worked rapidly and efficiently, and ended up being the first pair to finish in the entire class. Professor Beery approached to check their work before he dismissed them. He lifted their small container of beans and examined their color and plumpness. "Excellent work Miss Horton and Mr. Cramer," he beamed. "Ten points to Ravenclaw."

"Oh I do loathe that class," Warren decried as they left the greenhouse. They strode across the lawn toward the castle. "My parents are making me take it since I didn't place into Potions." She gave him a sympathetic look and then he changed the subject. "Speaking of parents, do you think your father will be able to make it to any of our Quidditch practices or games this year? I'd love to ask him what he thinks of some new formations I drew up over the summer."

The Quidditch enthusiasts at Hogwarts were constantly asking her things like this. Her father, Basil Horton, was a retired Keeper for the Falmouth Falcons and had also co-founded the Comet Trading Co. a couple of years after she was born. Not to mention the fact that he was a substantial benefactor to the Hogwarts Quidditch program; he donated a brand new broom from his company to every Quidditch player at Hogwarts last year. Of course, as a Ravenclaw alumnus, he was exceptionally partial to Rosemary's House. He often made appearances throughout the season to drop in and "guest coach" during their practices or to give a motivating speech during the Quidditch Cup. If someone with extraordinary talent caught his eye, he was even known to introduce them to recruiters for professional Quidditch teams. She remembered that over the summer he had coached Avery, who was a Beater, almost daily. Thinking about Avery brought back a flood of unpleasant thoughts and she pushed them from her mind long enough to say "I think he mentioned something about coming to a practice in October. I'll be sure to ask the next time I write."

"Excellent, thanks Horton," he smiled at her. "That reminds me, I have to stop at the pitch to pick something up. I'll see you later."

Rose waved at him as he departed. She stopped near a tree, not quite ready to go inside. There was still a pleasant chill in the air and now that thoughts of Avery and Orion had infected her mind once more, she wasn't in the mood to return to the castle and potentially see either of them just yet. Rosemary opened her bag and dug out her carton of Lucky Strike's. She lit one and took a long drag, letting the smoke soothe her as she thought about what she should do.

Rose knew how disappointed her parents would be if she and Markus were to end things. They would likely force her into some type of arranged marriage at some point anyway to ensure that she ended up with a pureblood. If that was the case, then she believed she was much better off with Markus than some of the other – potentially much older – single pureblood men they knew of.

Then again, she couldn't handle being outwardly disrespected. She leaned against the tree and brought the cigarette to her lips once more. Orion kept parading around, touching Markus's arm flirtatiously and laughing at all of his jokes as though she _wanted_ Rose to know. It was this obvious display that bothered her the most; if they simply tried to conceal their involvement, she probably wouldn't have minded. Rose was much too proud to play the scorned woman, though.

She turned around to look up at the castle, noticing how beautiful it was with the morning sun reflecting off of the stone walls. She wished she could stand there for hours, admiring the view with a lit cigarette. It filled her with dread to know that when she finally went inside, she would have to go to Potions and put on a charming charade for Markus all the while acknowledging that it could not be sustained. Someday soon, something would have to be said.

* * *

Tom had been so engrossed with their first Ancient Runes lesson that he hadn't checked the time once. Before he knew it, Professor Viesey was sending them on their way. Tom stood to pack his belongings into his bag and glanced out the window. Through the fog, dark red hair caught his eye and he knew immediately that it belonged to Miss Horton, even though her back was to the castle and he couldn't see her face. There wasn't anyone else at Hogwarts that sported the same shade.

He saw that she was holding a cigarette and watched as she tilted her head upward slightly and blew smoke from her mouth. She turned to face the castle and looked up to nearly the exact window at which he was standing. For a moment, he forgot where he was supposed to be going as he observed her puzzling expression. She looked so vastly unhappy, just as she had the night before when she was confiding in him about Avery.

"Did you have a question about something, Tom?" Professor Viesey walked up from behind him and Tom's mind came back to the present moment.

"No, but thank you for the fascinating lesson this morning Professor," Tom smiled and resumed his typical level of charm. The professor grinned with pride and patted him on the shoulder while wishing him a pleasant day.

Tom glanced out the window once more and saw that she had gone from beside the tree, presumably to Potions, which is exactly where he was supposed to be. He briskly left the room and made his way to the dungeons. Most of his classmates had arrived by the time he got there, but thankfully there was a vacant seat next to Lestrange. He took his place and settled in.

For some reason, he couldn't resist glancing in the direction of Horton and Avery, who were sitting at the table next to theirs. They were giggling together and talking in hushed voices as though they were happy as ever. Once again, he couldn't help his curiosity at her stark transition from just a few minutes prior.

Slughorn greeted the class and Tom turned his attention from them. "Good morning, class! I hope you all had a relaxing summer while keeping up with the readings I assigned."

There was a bit of grumbling from the class in this regard. Not even Tom had expected Slughorn to assign three full books of Potions theory for them to read. He had finished, of course, but suspected that many in the room had not.

"We'll be testing your dedication to the course first thing this morning. Books and notes away please, and take out your quills. You'll each have ten minutes to complete the exam, and I'll grade it as you hand it in."

Tom began writing furiously as soon as Slughorn handed him an exam. It was only one question: _Please explain the theory behind the development of Golpalott's Third Law as applied to the development of antidotes_. Thanks to the tip off from Horton, he had brushed up on his knowledge of antidotes before going to bed.

He finished writing in five minutes and set down his quill; surely he was the first to finish. But as he was about to stand, he noticed that Rosemary had already handed Slughorn her paper and was on her way back to her seat. It may have annoyed him on a typical day because of his competitive nature, but found that this time, it did not. He remembered that she was always at the top of the class with him, but had forgotten the extent of her natural aptitude for Potions. Perhaps the fact that she was dating Avery, whom Tom typically regarded as a mere pawn in his many plots to gain power within the student body, had somehow caused him to view her as airheaded and vain, like many of the Hogwarts girls. He realized that seeing another side to her the night before had shown him that she didn't simply follow Avery around as blindly and lovesick as he may have expected. Tom handed in his paper and returned to his seat and found it odd that she was on his mind so frequently that day. Normally, he was immersed in his own thoughts and plans for the future or perhaps his studies at Hogwarts. He never really bothered with day-to-day concerns, especially not of the social variety.

The remainder of the class finished and Slughorn took a few minutes to grade all of the exams. They waited anxiously, unsure of who they would be stuck working with for the rest of the term. Finally, Professor Slughorn stood in front of the class. "So, as you may have heard, I will be pairing you on the basis of your performance on the evaluation you just completed. Adam Lestrange, I'll start with you. You'll be working with Emily Springer. Then we'll have Faye Donohue and Loretta Ashcroft, Rebecca Orion and Markus Avery…" For a moment, Tom wondered what Rosemary would think about Rebecca and Markus getting paired up. Slughorn worked his way through the list of names. "Finally, Tom Riddle and Rosemary Horton…I suppose there's no surprise there." He chuckled a bit; Tom knew that the two of them were his favorite sixth-year students. They would receive an invitation to the first Slug Club meeting in a few weeks, no doubt. "Go ahead and rearrange yourselves and we'll begin."

Lestrange left to sit by his new partner and Rosemary took his spot. "Miss Horton," Tom greeted politely.

"Riddle," she returned, brandishing a small smile. Working with her was the inevitable outcome if it was truly based on merit. Admittedly, he was relieved. It was infinitely preferable to working with some dolt that hadn't the first clue about what they were doing.

"Alright class, let's begin. Today we'll be preparing a Swelling Solution. The ingredients and scales are on either side of the room."

He told Horton that he would go retrieve their supplies as she prepared their cauldron. For a while, they worked in complete silence and precision. Then they had to wait while their solution had to boil for about twenty minutes with minimal stirring. She stared at the potion and began to talk to him in a barely audible voice. "Thank you again for listening to me last night, I hope I wasn't too much of a bore. I've found that I apparently divulge my secrets when I'm plastered."

Tom was rather surprised she brought it up again and wasn't sure what to say when she looked up at him. He settled on a smile that he meant to look reassuring, but it felt more awkward than anything.

"Anyway, I'm happy you decided to come down and join us. It was rather nice to sit and talk."

"Thank you for the invitation," he offered, hoping it was a polite enough response. He didn't really know what to think of their talk, but _nice_ probably wasn't the right word. Intriguing, perhaps? He had never gotten close enough with anyone for them to tell him their intimate thoughts. It was ironic because this had clearly happened, but the two of them certainly couldn't be described as _close._ They barely knew each other at all.

"Well you should join us more often. Maybe even drink a little more next time." She smirked at him and gave their potion a stir. Her smirk vanished as Orion's high pitched laugh filled the room in response to some brainless thing that Avery said. Rosemary's voice was quiet again when she spoke: "Do you think Slughorn would notice if I smuggled some of this Swelling Solution out of class? I'm thinking it would make a great addition to Rebecca's morning tea." He was a bit taken aback when she looked up at him with an almost sinister smile, something he had definitely never witnessed from her before. Then her features softened and she added, "I'm only joking, of course."

He didn't find it very believable that she was joking, and he found it amusing. He could see in her deep blue eyes that the sinister look was genuine and it made him wonder how she was sorted into Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin. In a way, the look was similar to what he had seen the night before and that morning as she stood alone outside. The overachiever persona she showed everyone showcased a formulated blend of amicability, confidence, and lightheartedness. For the third time, he had seen the shadow of her inner darkness. Now, for the first time, he saw the cunning and mischievousness that might go along with it. The more he thought about it, the more it intrigued him: he had never met someone that seemed to mirror his own complexities. He began to wonder if they were similar in other ways that he had not yet discovered. At the same time, other parts of his mind fought against his curiosity and warned him to avoid developing any sort of friendship or emotional ties at all cost – it would only lead to an inevitable weakness in his otherwise invulnerability. Not to mention the fact that he was far too busy bolstering his reputation at Hogwarts to be bothered by such distractions.

* * *

"_You know, you're a little complicated after all."  
"Oh no," she assured him hastily. "No, I'm not really - I'm just a whole lot of different simple people." – F Scott. Fitzgerald_

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**Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it. I know we're starting out a bit slow, but things will pick up soon and become _much_ more complicated! You'll see(;**

**Please review! I'll be back soon with Chapter 3: _Charming__ Checkmate_**


	3. Part I - Charming Checkmate

**Happy Friday! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for your review, averagepoptart!**

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Charming Checkmate

_October 22, 1943_

Tom's classes were finished for the week and finally, he would have the entire weekend to do whatever he pleased. This would likely involve scheming ways he could gain more control over the student body and staff, or perhaps perusing the restricted section of the library. He nearly smiled with content at the thought; these sorts of things were the only things he could think of that made him genuinely happy.

Better yet, it had been several weeks since the thought of Rosemary Horton had distracted him. His curiosity of her had subsided and it seemed to be business as usual.

Alas, of course, he was faced with the inexhaustible irony of life when he entered the Slytherin common room after dinner and saw Horton lounging on one of the long couches with a book in her hands. When she saw him enter she set down her book and smiled up at him. "Hello, Riddle."

Always one to avoid social interaction if at all possible, Tom would have pretended not to see her and headed for the staircase that led to his dormitory if she hadn't acknowledged him. But now that she had, he felt obligated to stay and speak with her, if only for a few minutes.

"Miss Horton." He sent her a polite smile in return and walked to sit in a nearby chair. "I'm surprised to see you here without Avery. Have you finally realized that Slytherin is the superior house and begged Dippet to allow you to switch?" At times, Tom surprised even himself with his natural charm; he certainly hadn't expected something so playful to come from his mouth.

Her responding laugh suggested that she had liked it. For a moment, he noticed that she had a pleasant laugh. There was a quality about that he couldn't quite describe, perhaps some type of warmth; it was enjoyable regardless of his inability to describe it.

"Not quite. Markus is at Quidditch practice for another hour. He said I could wait here until he returns because Loretta is practicing for The Frog Choir auditions in our dormitory and I can't stand hearing it. I realize that makes me sound like a terrible friend, but it's just too high pitched to listen to for hours."

"Quite right." He smirked at her. Merlin, he _was _in rare form that day.

"If I'm not keeping you from anything, perhaps you could keep me company while I wait? I've been in the mood for a game of wizard's chess lately."

Tom paused. He had planned to get certain things done that afternoon, but he supposed there wasn't any dire urgency. Surely they could wait until later, or even another day. He _did_ enjoy besting his peers at wizard's chess and he was intrigued to see if she was a worthy opponent. "Best two of three, Miss Horton?"

She smiled excitedly and he rose from his chair to retrieve the board from one of the bookshelves in a corner of the common room. Rosemary moved to sit on the floor with her back against the couch and he sat across from her with the board between them. He waved his wand over the board and the pieces moved into their staring positions.

"You know, you can call me Rose if you'd like" she told him after ordering a pawn onto the board.

He knew that was what most of her friends called her, but seeing as he didn't really consider himself her friend, he hadn't even considered it before. Thinking about it further, he wondered if this meant that they _were_ supposed friends, at least in her eyes. He wasn't sure what to say or think about the prospect of that, so after a bit of hesitation, he decided to respond with: "Well, you can call me Tom, if you'd like."

Each of them took a few turns, back and forth. After an attack on one of her bishops left a few shattered stone pieces on the board, she leaned toward him to sweep them off into her hand. She was so close he caught a bit of her scent: strong, sweet vanilla with a hint of something rather spicy, perhaps ginger. It overwhelmed him for a moment and he felt a bit lightheaded.

"Checkmate." She beamed at him with satisfaction and he looked down just in time to see her remaining knight destroy his king. "Would you fancy a rematch? Didn't you say best two of three?"

Apparently, she was a better strategist than he had given her credit for. He wasn't used to defeat, and when he did lose to someone else, he was rarely gracious. However, with Rosemary, it was interestingly different. As they worked together week after week in Potions and he had taken note of her performance in other classes, he was taken aback by her natural abilities which paralleled even his own. Except in Defense Against the Dark Arts, where he was clearly the best in the class.

Regardless, it was perhaps the first time that he had cultivated genuine respect for someone his own age. He didn't think that it was too much of a stretch to assume that she might end up as Head Girl next year. If his plans went the way he wanted and he became Head Boy, they would probably have to work together quite often. With that in mind, he supposed that cultivating a friendship with her wasn't such a terrible thing to consider and, surprisingly enough, it didn't seem like it would be too painful or exhausting.

He looked down and reset the board. "Don't get too excited; I was just learning your strategy. You'll have to brace yourself for this next round," he warned her with a smirk.

"We'll just see about that."

Tom could barely believe it, but he was actually_ enjoying _her company. It was a new feeling, of calm and contentment. His earlier plans for the afternoon were the furthest thing from his mind. For once, he felt entirely drawn into the present moment and didn't feel his usual instinctive desire to escape from whomever he was dealing with at the time. Certainly, he thought, this had to be what it felt like to have a friend.

During their second round, he didn't allow himself to get distracted. He chose each maneuver carefully and was taking her pieces left and right. Eventually, he was one move away from delivering a 'checkmate'. She clearly saw her dilemma because she sat back and stared at the board, weighing each option carefully. Tom watched her as she thought and wondered what it would be like to peer inside her clever mind. He had his suspicions that it would be much like looking inward at his own thought processes.

"Fucking hell!" She exclaimed suddenly and looked up at him with a glare. Apparently, she had realized there was no way for her to move without losing within a couple of turns. Then her face softened just as quickly as her temper had sparked. She averted her eyes and bit her bright pink bottom lip while a slight blush spread over her features. "Excuse my language…"

Tom couldn't help but smirk at her embarrassment. He realized that he rather liked seeing the flare of her temper; it was actually endearing in an odd sort of way. It both amused and pleased him to see such a drastic departure from the proper young lady she was around their classmates.

She seemed to have recovered from her embarrassment as they set up the chess board one last time for the tie-breaking match. It was her turn to go first this time. For a few minutes, he focused entirely on the game, but his mind began to wander once more…

He felt as though he was truly beginning to see her; observing her temper, sinister tendencies, and cynical thinking had drastically changed his view of her and strengthened his theory that she was similar to him in many ways. He was once again captivated by his curiosity of her.

Tom looked up at her with his dark eyes as she contemplated her next move. When he looked at her, he got a feeling that was similar to that of cold air hitting his lungs in the dead of winter, a sort of satisfying burn. Her long, dark red hair framed her face with bangs that brushed the tops of her eyebrows. Then, of course, were her deep blue eyes and long eyelashes. Now he simply couldn't stop looking at her. Her skin was reminiscent of porcelain, but with a nice touch of color around the cheeks. She was _quite_ pretty_, _and it had taken him quite some time to notice_._

He didn't dare allow his eyes to venture over the rest of her. It had become rather difficult to breathe; this was an entirely new sensation, focused mainly in the pit of his stomach. His mind was flooded with thoughts that he couldn't control and seemed to intensify the harder he tried to push them away. Most surprisingly, at the forefront of these thoughts was the curiosity of what it would be like to feel her lips against his.

He realized that he didn't have much (or any) experience in the area of genuine friendship, but this wasn't quite what he had envisioned just a few minutes before.

Tom was at first reassured by the fact that at least his new-found desires could be rationalized. He knew that sexual contact of any kind was a primal urge at its base and he had anticipated experiencing these feelings at some point, although that afternoon was the first time it had really occurred. He tried to convince himself that it was purely coincidental that Rosemary had brought this out in him. It could have been anyone, he told himself. But deep inside, as he remembered his curiosity of her, there was a nagging realization that it was more than mere attraction.

_So much for avoiding distractions…_

Then she was smiling again shook her head slightly. "You almost had me…" She evaded his potential checkmate and two moves later, she had cornered his king and won the game.

He was in a state of blatant disbelief. Not regarding her win; he could care less about a trivial game of wizard's chess at that point. Rather, he was consumed with thoughts of her and the ways she was affecting him. He broke out of his daze long enough to say "Good game, Miss Horton."

She smiled and used his first name for the first time: "Good game, Tom. You _almost_ won. Almost."

Clearly she was teasing him, but with his mind spinning, he was in no condition to entertain her further. He needed to get away from her so he could quiet his thoughts. With every passing moment they seemed to intensify and he felt them constricting his chest, making it difficult to breathe. His confident tone faltered for a moment as he stammered "There's something I need to do, you'll have to excuse me."

"Of course. Thank you for entertaining me while I wait for Markus. Perhaps I'll see you again this weekend? If not, then in Potions on Monday." She sent him another of her smiles that made his stomach turn in a pleasant way.

Tom nodded with a small smile and withdrew to his dormitory. Thankfully, none of his dorm-mates were present. He closed the door behind him and stretched out on his bed, heaving a long sigh. Though it had become easier to breathe, his mind was still spinning with thoughts of her. He had an amalgam of emotions swirling inside of him, all at once. He felt queasy, exhilarated, terrified, and enchanted. But most of all, he felt _alive_.

Once more, he was consumed with curiosity of her. He wanted to know all of her thoughts, all of the secrets behind the brooding looks she displayed only on occasion, and all of the quirks, like her swearing, that no one else got to see. He stared up at the ceiling, rather appalled and in a state of disbelief. He told himself that he needed to stop; he simply didn't have the _time_ for these kinds of thoughts. But it was proven hopeless: when he tried to distract himself with thoughts of anything else, they flowed back to her in an endless cascade. He knew, then, that there was no turning back and nothing he could do to fight it. When his mind got stuck on something, it became an obsession and he knew that this would be no different.

_I fancy Rosemary Horton. Fuck._

* * *

As Tom left the common room, Rosemary hoped she hadn't offended him somehow. He suddenly seemed withdrawn and hoped it wasn't simply because she had beaten him and proceeded to tease him about it. Sometimes she took things a little too far. Or, perhaps, she had offended him with her swearing. Given the fact that he seemed proper and adult-like so much of the time, this didn't seem too far-fetched.

She cringed inwardly, still reeling with embarrassment. It had just slipped out for some reason; she wished desperately that there wasn't such a stigma attached to women who swore. Why_couldn't_ she have a filthy mouth, but be a respectable lady at the same time? She hadn't even had the courage to look at him after it happened to gauge his reaction.

Rose forced these thoughts from her mind. In the very least, she was happy that he had spent the time with her. She had enjoyed his company and she had gotten to see somewhat of a new side of him. The fact that he had been teasing her was quite a departure from his usual, stoic appearance and she rather liked it. Perhaps she would find a friend in him after all.

Surely, it would be short-lived, though. She doubted that she would spend any time with him outside of class after she ended things with Avery, an inevitability that she had yet to gain the courage for.

The events of the weekend prior didn't do her any favors in that particular area. Her father had visited the Ravenclaw Quidditch team for the day and brought along her mother, who bombarded her with all sorts of questions regarding her relationship with Markus during their trip to Hogsmeade. Rose had given lukewarm answers, saying things were "fine". Evelyn had picked up on her lack of enthusiasm and countered, saying that Rose didn't quite understand how lucky she was and that perhaps she would rather get married off to Randolph Keitch, her father's balding close friend and co-founder of his broom company.

It certainly quieted her for the time being. Rose had considered telling her mother of Rebecca Orion, but knew it wouldn't have changed anything. She could envision her mother saying something like: "Oh Rosemary, don't be so dramatic; it's not as though your father was entirely faithful for our entire marriage. But it _is_ because of him that you have a gorgeous house to come home to with all of your nice things _and_ a pure bloodline."

Rose also pondered the possibility of breaking things off without telling her parents, but knew that the Avery's would inform them as soon as they got word from Markus. Until she came up with a better solution, she was trapped.

Avery and Lestrange walked into the common room, both of them sweaty from Quidditch practice. "Hey Rose," he came over and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm sorry you've waited for me, but I won't be able to spend time with you tonight like we planned."

"He earned a week of detention for hexing the Gryffindor brooms so they would fly backwards, and Professor Stuart caught him," Lestrange said amusedly.

"Maybe I wanted to tell her the story _myself_," said Markus in an annoyed voice. She knew that he loved to brag about his delinquencies, especially to girls.

Lestrange rolled his eyes and went upstairs to their dormitory. Rose stood up to leave and said calmly "Well, that's perfect, because Faye wanted to talk to me about something."

He gave her a puzzled look and grabbed her arm as she headed for the door. "You don't seem upset...and usually something like this makes you cross with me." He paused. "Come to think of it, you've been acting a bit odd ever since your parents visited."

"I'm not cross and I haven't been acting odd," she said coolly, removing her arm from his grasp. "I'll see you later." If anything, she was relieved that she didn't have to spend her Friday night pretending that she was enjoying her time with him. They had been friends for years, but the lies were all too much for her and they had made her see him a different way entirely.

Rose returned to her Ravenclaw dormitory and found Faye and their dorm-mates, Emily Springer and Loretta Ashcroft, sitting in a circle on Faye's bed and drinking firewhiskey.

"Rose, we thought you were spending the night with _Avery_." Emily spoke his name with a mocking voice. Rose knew that Emily disapproved of her relationship with him, primarily because he was a Slytherin and the kind of pureblood that actually cared about blood status. Emily, on the other hand, was a half-blood and subjected to his occasional mocking. Thankfully, she hadn't held this against Rose and simply berated her choice in men. Emily must have assumed that Rose was too sweet to share his views.

But in reality, blood status _was_ of some importance to Rose. Though she at least concealed her opinions and tried not to let it affect her relationships with others to a huge degree, she somewhat drew the line at being close friends with the muggle-born students. It was yet another thing about herself that she chose to hide from nearly everyone.

"No, he earned detention…again. So I probably won't be seeing much of him this weekend."

"What a little prat. Well, join us! We're playing truth or drink," Faye told her.

Rosemary grinned, retrieved her bottle of gin from the trunk under her bed, and sat with them.

"You have to catch up since you've missed out on the first three rounds," Loretta said pointedly.

"I'm not about to give up three truths just like that…Drinking it is." She raised the bottle to her lips and swallowed the equivalent of three shots.

"Emily's turn! Loretta, you ask her something."

"Alright, well what do you think of Warren Cramer?" It was always entertaining to ask Emily about boys because she was painfully shy.

"Too easy! He's _only_ the dreamiest Quidditch player for Ravenclaw," Faye protested.

"I wasn't asking _you_."

"Well she's right, he's quite dreamy," Emily said in a quiet voice with a small smile.

They laughed and continued in the circle. Faye chose to drink on her turn and Loretta divulged that she would snog Professor Thomson if she had to choose someone from the staff. They carried on for a while, until it was late. Thankfully, Rose didn't have to face any truths regarding her relationship, though if they asked her anything she would have lied anyway.

Emily and Loretta went off to bed and Faye and Rose sat on their window seat, sipping the beverages of their choice.

"So, did Adam say anything about me while you were there?" Faye asked.

Rosemary shook her head. "I only saw him for a few minutes before he went upstairs."

"Don't forget, you promised that we'd go on a double date to Hogsmeade this year."

"We will," Rose promised again, although she had completely forgotten her original promise because of her preoccupation with avoiding Markus at all cost. They looked out the window into the darkness. She wasn't sure what made her say it, but she found herself say "I played a couple of games of wizard's chess with Riddle today while waiting for Markus to get back from practice."

Faye gave her a disapproving look. "I know you want Avery's friends to like you, but I think he's rather a waste of your time. He's so serious and quite frankly, boring. Didn't I mention that he was creepy before? Besides, you too are completely the opposite, except in terms of your class marks…Speaking of, he's quite arrogant."

"How do you know that we're completely the opposite if you don't know him at all?" Rose pointed out. There was something else, a simple fact about herself that she hid from everyone: Rose was _extremely_ arrogant about her performance in classes. The fact that she saw this in Tom actually made her like him more. She knew that it was an odd quality to desire in a friend, but it made her think that he might understand her in some ways that other people couldn't.

Faye clearly didn't know how to respond, so she tried to make another point. "You've been dating Markus for two years – what does it matter what his friends think of you now?"

Rose was rather offended at her friend's simplistic outlook. "I don't care what _Avery's_ friends think of me. Maybe I just want to be friends with him because I _don't _think he's boring."

"No need to get defensive. I'm just saying, I think Avery might see it the wrong way. Do you want to give him the idea that you and Riddle are involved or something? It's probably a bad idea to spend time with him alone…"

"Well, we aren't 'involved', so I don't know why Markus would ever get that idea." Rosemary said curtly. She didn't mention that Avery's opinion on the matter was the last thing she cared about because she still hadn't told anyone but Tom about Markus and Rebecca.

"Bloody hell. You are so strange sometimes, Rose. You had better be careful; you know how quickly rumors travel through these halls. There are a lot of girls that would love to have their chance at Avery; I think you should feel a bit more fortunate, though I suppose you'll just say it's none of my business." Faye stood from the window seat and stretched. "I'm off to bed. Enjoy dreaming of your beloved Tom Riddle."

Rose glared at her friend, who could be infuriating so much of the time. Why couldn't Faye just keep her damned opinions to herself? Still, Rose would inevitably forgive her. She would never be able to expect people to entirely understand her because she was too accustomed to providing only versions of the truth. How could she truly blame anyone but herself for that?

She retired to bed as well, still slightly fuming from her conversation with Faye and the situation with Markus in general. There was a faint realization that the happiest she had been all day was when she was with Tom. She hadn't felt the usual pressures to hide her inner self away and put on an exhaustively charming act. It had been surprisingly comfortable and relaxed, and she had liked their teasing back and forth. Her last thought before falling asleep was that even if she and Avery were to end things, she would somehow want to try and preserve her friendship with Riddle.

* * *

"_When I'm with you, I don't breathe quite right." – F. Scott Fitzgerald_

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**Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think by submitting a review below.(:**


	4. Part I - Moth, Meet Flame

**Ahh...So I meant to update yesterday, but I was traveling for spring break all day and didn't have internet access :(. I'll update a little early next week (Wednesday or Thursday) to make up for it! Thanks to everyone who has followed and favorited my story! Also, I owe a special thank you to Guest, Whisper May, and TheRealTayler13 for your reviews! Some of you may have noticed that this Tom doesn't seem all that dark and that the story focuses primarily on the blossoming relationship between him and Rose. At this point in the story, Tom is curious of the dark arts and definitely power-hungry to some degree, but his mind definitely hasn't been completely consumed with darkness…yet. It may seem somewhat out of character for him at first, but I'll develop his darkness and the complexities between our main characters in time. Like I said, this will be quite a long story, so stay tuned!**

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Moth, Meet Flame

_December 4, 1943_

"Ah, Miss Horton and Mr. Avery! I'm so pleased you could join us this evening." Professor Slughorn's jolly face beamed at them as he let them into his office. It was their second Slug Club meeting of the year and many of the other students had already arrived for dinner: Lestrange, Duprie, Scout, Cramer, and of course, Riddle. "Please join us, we'll be eating shortly."

Rose's eyes rested on Riddle and she had to admit that he looked exceptionally dapper in his well-fitting suit. She led the couple's way to the table to take the seat to Tom's left and Markus sat on her other side.

"Evening, Tom," she greeted him.

"Good evening, Miss Horton." Even though she had told him weeks ago that he could call her by her first name, he had yet to. In a way, she rather liked his formality. He was the perfect gentleman in all of the ways that Markus was not, and it was refreshing.

At the same time, though, she found it frustrating. It was impossible to know what he was thinking and it seemed as though he was always guarded. This hadn't bothered her until recently as she realized she wanted to know more about him. His mystery fascinated her and while she would never admit it to Faye or her other close friends, she thought of him frequently.

Indeed, she had begun to think of him even more than the annoyance of Rebecca and Markus' fling. He became a place of refuge in her mind, one made up of wonderful and seemingly-endless distraction. She increasingly looked forward to their Potions lessons on Mondays, when they worked together over a steaming cauldron in their usual efficient flow. They had clearly proven to be the best team in the class. But in the past few weeks, her original curiosities of him had made room for even more thoughts, like his dark eyes and tall frame.

Admittedly, she had developed a bit of a crush. How could she not? He was handsome, mysterious, and brilliant; his perfect manners were merely the cherry on top. It wasn't as though other girls hadn't taken note. She watched as they gazed in his direction when he passed in the hallways. It simply added to his mystery that he seemed politely disinterested; Rosemary owed it to his dedication to his schoolwork.

They were both unavailable for completely different reasons, but this did not stop him from his nightly appearances in her dreams, which were mostly innocent, but occasionally explicit in nature. Sometimes she would dream that he bring her to Hogsmeade or send love letters by owl up to her dormitory in the Ravenclaw tower. Only sometimes would she dream of his hands in her hair or inching their way up her skirt, all while pressing his lips against hers. It made her guilty to think of these simple pleasures, even with Avery's indiscretion, but sometimes she simply couldn't help herself.

Professor Slughorn joined them at the table and asked one of Hogwarts' house elves to fill their glasses: one with water and the other with pumpkin juice. Then they were served their first course: a pea soup. The food was often Rosemary's favorite part of these gatherings, unless Slughorn happened to invite an exceptionally interesting guest. This time, though, the guests were all fellow Hogwarts students.

"Miss Scout, what are your plans after graduation this year?" Slughorn asked the slightly pudgy –but pretty nonetheless–Gryffindor.

"Well, I'd love to work at the Ministry in the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"You'll be a shoe-in with your father's position!" Slughorn declared.

"He's an ambassador, isn't he? Where is he working now?" Warren Cramer asked her.

"He was placed in the United States last year, working with the American Magic Council," she said, her eyes dancing with delight at being the center of attention. This was what Slughorn did: mercilessly stroking their egos until it was all his students craved. Nevertheless, or perhaps because of this if she was being honest, he was Rose's favorite professor. At least he took an interest in their lives.

Though, sometimes it was too much interest; Slughorn had turned to Markus and Rose and declared "And then there are Avery and Horton; I'm very interested to see what the two of you go on to accomplish together. I'll bet your parents are so proud that you two ended up together. There's just a sort of _magnetism_ there, don't you all agree?"

He looked around at the other students and they nodded their heads in agreement. Rosemary felt her face turn bright red and she looked down at her soup for a moment, wishing to crawl beneath the table in embarrassment. Markus didn't make matters any better. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips and kissed it once softly. "Well, Sir, I'll dare to say that I'm never happier than when this girl is by my side." Her stomach dropped in an awful way at his two-faced words, but she forced herself to smile and meet his convincingly loving gaze.

He was so smooth, such a good actor when he was trying to be. Mary-Ann Scout and Josephine Duprie mouthed "Aww!" to her and smiled as though she was the most fortunate girl at Hogwarts. If only they, and everyone else, knew what she did.

The one person who did know turned out to be her savior. Tom cleared his throat and said "Sir, won't you tell us the potion you used to win the Most Potent Potions contest when you were at Hogwarts?"

She made a mental note to thank him later for his subject change. It made her heart beat faster to think that it had been intentional, that he had sensed her discomfort and wanted to spare her from it. His distraction worked; Slughorn launched into the story of his one of his many successes and the attention shifted from her and Avery. She could breathe freely once more.

Their dinner course was served: pork chops with cherry demi-glace. It was delicious, but Rosemary found herself eating little of it. Markus was really beginning to make her sick with all of his charades. At the same time, she still felt a bit lightheaded from Tom's interjection. She snuck a look at him out of the corner of her eye and saw that he was listening intently to Slughorn and hadn't touched a speck of his dinner.

He glanced down at her unexpectedly and they locked gazes for a moment. He gave her a small smile, but his dark eyes seemed to hold some sort of sadness that she had never seen before. She wondered if her eyes also betrayed a kind of sadness, instead regarding her seemingly hopeless situation with Avery. The emotion drained from him as quickly as it had appeared and he looked back at Professor Slughorn with a neutral expression.

Oh, how his mystery plagued her mind. Why did he look so sad? Would she ever know him? She was faced with the prospect that she had met someone that might hold more secrets than even she did. Another thought crossed her mind: if Slughorn thought that she and Avery were a power couple of sorts, what would he think if, hypothetically of course, she and Riddle were together? She knew for a fact that they were the most brilliant at Hogwarts and Slughorn's favorite students.

People just seemed to assume that she and Markus were meant to be because they grew up together; they really weren't alike in the ways that mattered to Rose. He didn't care about school or entertain his own ambitions; he was completely comfortable inheriting his father's fortune. It was likely that he would never have to work a day in his life. Rose wanted exactly the opposite.

Inevitably, though, her parents were going to auction her off to the highest bidder – which happened to be the Avery family at the time– and she was supposed to live a comfortable life and bear children to carry on their pureblood heritage. When she spoke of having a career after Hogwarts, they wouldn't tolerate it; there wasn't a place for women in the workplace, at least when considering the fact that she was from a prosperous pureblood family. Yet for years, she stayed her course and earned her marks, hoping that one day they would change her mind. For this reason, she was envious of girls like Scout who would be permitted to do more than sitting around, eating bonbons and hosting the inescapable social functions of adulthood.

Dessert came just in time, allowing her to eat her feelings as she entered a new low in terms of cynicism, knowing that the thoughts inside of her would continue to stew. It wasn't as though she had anyone to confide in on the matter. Every other witch she knew would say that she was lucky to be in such a position: guaranteed an easy life full of material comforts. And then most wizards would claim that she was spoiled and ungrateful. Perhaps, she thought, it was true: that she was foolish, spoiled, and ungrateful for wanting anything more from life.

* * *

Tom gazed at her as she turned her attention back to Professor Slughorn. He took her in the way that you inhale after being underwater for a couple of minutes. Every aspect of her flooded into his consciousness and it was overwhelming. It was the sort of thing that had begun to happen whenever he was within a five-foot radius of her. Tonight, she wore a navy blue lace cocktail dress that made her eyes appear to be an even deeper blue and her long, red hair fell over her shoulders in loose curls. An expensive-looking pearl necklace was draped around her collar bone and he could smell her characteristic warm, spicy blend of ginger and vanilla.

They had finished eating and her delicate hands were folded in her lap. He remembered how she had clenched them into fists when Slughorn spoke of her and Avery's relationship and how sadly she had looked at him afterward. The aging wizard's comments had also made him rather queasy and saddened him to some degree; it certainly wasn't easy for Tom to listen to their professor praise Avery and Horton as though they were destiny-bound lovers. He couldn't take it and had to change the subject, hoping that his discomfort wasn't obvious. It had made him lose his appetite entirely.

Actually, he hadn't been eating much at all as of late. His obsession of her grew stronger and increasingly unbearable each time he saw her, but he was at least getting better at hiding it. Everything that didn't involve her had fallen off his radar, even sleeping to some degree. Tom would lay awake, hating Markus for taking her for granted while also envisioning how he would take her for granted in a different sort of way and relish her small, tantalizing body if given the chance.

That was another recent development; for a couple of weeks after their chess game, he had resisted examining the rest of her and restricted himself to gazing only at her face. During one Potions lesson, he had given in and it proved to be a terrible mistake. He noticed that she seemed to have a shapely figure: not the stick-thin body type that nearly all the Hogwarts girls longed for, but she had curves in all of the places he would most like to place his hands. Their robes limited his view to some degree, which was really for the best, but he remained curious as to what she looked like without such interference. Then, at the first Quidditch match of the year, he saw her out of uniform and in regular clothes and his suspicions of her shapely figure were confirmed.

He tried to look at her as little as possible because when he did, it led to inevitable blood flow to an area beneath his pants and this tended to be uncomfortable in public settings. Tonight, though, he couldn't control himself. Her dress was tight against her body and a fair amount of cleavage sprouted from the top. He wondered how every part of her would feel against his tongue.

And then he wondered how he could possibly escape this torture. He hated himself for his weakness, for giving in to such primitive urges. At the same time, he knew that there was nothing he could have done to stop his feelings from growing; it was simply hopeless. He knew, because he had tried to push her away from his mind countless times. But Tom still felt that unyielding desire to know everything about her. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

But was there an alternative to getting burned?

He couldn't simply tell her what he felt; if he did, there was still the problem of Avery. It bothered him at times that she didn't just break things off with him, but he understood her position. He knew enough about the wizarding world to realize how pureblood families operated. If she and Avery ended, another wizard would surely crop up in his place. Even if she felt the same about Tom, there was no way for him to fake his blood status to her parents. They would know, of course, as soon as they heard his last name and failed to recognize it, as all pureblood families seemed to know each other. Because of this, he would be deemed an unsuitable match and they would likely end as quickly as they began. He felt ashamed just thinking about it and silently cursed his dead parents for his impurity. Another thought crossed his mind: did _she_ know he was a half-blood? Perhaps she wouldn't have been so quick to engage him in friendship if she did. He felt hopeful in spite of these potential setbacks; he trusted himself to find a way around them, maybe even lying to her if he had to.

It wasn't as though he had been able to focus on any of his other ambitions…He knew that he couldn't until she was his. This was the sort of torture he had endured for weeks and he was growing impatient. When Tom set his sights on something, he impatiently pursued it with unyielding ferocity, unwilling to accept defeat. Waiting for things to come his way was not his forte, but he didn't have the slightest idea of where to start with this particular challenge. Regardless, he wanted her and he would have her, eventually. He would find a way to gain approval of her parents when the time came. One step at a time, he kept telling himself.

Later, after they finished up at Slug Club for the evening, Tom was working on an essay in the common room. He was mid-sentence when he was interrupted from his thoughts by Rebecca Orion's annoyingly high-pitched voice.

"Hi Markus!"

Tom assumed that he had just returned from escorting Rosemary back to the Ravenclaw tower. Avery smiled warmly at her and looked as though he were going to walk over and sit with her.

It was purely impulsive when Tom rose from his seat and said curtly, "Avery, a word."

A glimmer of fear flashed across Avery's eyes. Tom had threatened him before, as he had found that fear was the easiest way to gain respect. "Sure, of course Riddle," he responded without a moment's hesitation, though it was clear that he was trying to sound casual. Tom strode confidently from the common room and led them outside, into the hallways of the dungeons. He then stood facing Avery, realizing that he didn't actually have a plan of what he was going to say to him.

Thankfully, Markus seemed to take care of it for him. "Erm, well…You seem sorta pissed…Did Rose and I keep you up or something last night? Sorry Riddle, I told her to quiet down…"

"Well, I was woken up," he glared at Avery menacingly. "But I know that it wasn't _Horton_," Tom hissed, remembering the night before. In reality, he had completely forgotten it until Avery brought it up.

Avery looked surprised for a moment and then his face twisted into a perverse grin and put up his hands as though surrendering. "Alright, you caught me. I mean Becca _is _much louder in bed so I'm not too surprised you could tell the difference. I'll have to thank her for giving it away. Sorry, won't happen again."

How could Avery take Rose for granted so enormously? She was the girl that seeped into Tom's consciousness nearly every waking moment and he couldn't bear to think of anyone treating her with such blatant disrespect. His defensiveness for her caught him a bit off-guard; it took all of Tom's willpower to contain himself. He wanted to send Avery to the floor with a few bouts of the Cruciatus Curse. Unfortunately, the corridor was somewhat crowded; there would be too many witnesses if he let his temper get the best of him. "Getting woken up is the least of my concerns, you stupid git," was all he trusted himself to say, genuinely worried that he might let a _'Crucio'_ slip from his mouth.

Avery gave him a puzzled look, but a few moments later his eyes widened. "Oh! You fancy her, don't you Riddle? I mean I know she used to fancy you, but I think she gave up a long time ago because you didn't seem interested-"

"What are you talking about?" Tom spat defensively.

"If I would have known you cared about her, I wouldn't have started anything…"

Tom realized there had been a terrible misunderstanding. "I don't want your _whore,_" he said coldly with an air of repulsion as he narrowed his eyes.

"_Rosie_, then?" Avery asked with even greater disbelief.

The conversation had sapped too much of Tom's energy to bother with further defensiveness. Besides, Avery had responded before he even had the chance: "Bloody hell." Avery was quiet for a moment and then started to laugh.

"What's so amusing Avery? Are you really that thick? Dim enough to think that Orion is actually the better choice?" Words were falling from his mouth without his consent given his nearly uncontrollable temper.

Avery stopped smiling and began to speak defensively. "I didn't mean it that way. But I think it depends on your definition of better. I _did_ love her at one point, but the more I fell for her, the more difficult she got. There's no pleasing Rose; she always wanted more from me. She always wanted to have these long conversations about things a teenage girl shouldn't care about and I just wasn't in to it. She wants something a little more intellectual and I just wanted to have fun. Becca may not be as clever, but at least she's easy to please." He paused for a moment and added, "I guess I laughed because you two really are alike in a lot of ways and I didn't really see it until now."

To say that Tom was surprised at his answer would be a drastic understatement; Avery seemed much too shallow for this level of introspection, while it still wasn't necessarily "deep" by any means. It had surprised him in another way, too: the way he had described what Rose wanted was exactly what Tom wanted from her, hopefully with the addition of a physical aspect as well.

"Why didn't you just end things instead of insulting her by sleeping around with the easiest girl at Hogwarts?"

Avery didn't take offense, which Tom was rather disappointed by. He merely shrugged. "Our parents can be quite…_persuasive._ My parents wanted a share into her father's broom company and hers wanted her to have an easy life with plenty of financial security. My parents will get over it, though; they don't care nearly as much as hers. I knew I would tell her about Becca and that we should end things at some point, but I never got around to it, I guess."

"I think it's time you got around to it," Tom told him, with a threatening look in case he suggested otherwise.

"I'll talk to her tomorrow," Avery said quickly, as Tom recognized that glimmer of fear once more. They began walking back to the common room. "I should wish you luck. Rose's parents have known me for years and her father _still _loves to threaten me on occasion."

Tom wasn't sure if he was just being paranoid about Avery's comment, but he wondered if Markus was thinking about the fact that he was a half-blood and that surely Tom would have a more difficult time with her parents. Avery was one of the few Hogwarts students that knew of his blood status. Whether or not it was truly what Avery was suggesting, it was clear that he didn't dare to mention it directly. Regardless, Tom was too taken by the reality that Rose was so close to his grasp now to bother feeling insulted.

The entire situation with Markus had tested his boundaries to some degree. He loathed the fact that he had to reveal something personal to someone so inferior to get closer to what he wanted. Even so, he was certain that eventually, the ends would justify his means. It still struck him as ridiculous at times that this was all for a girl, but as he fell faster and faster for her, nothing seemed out of the realm of possibilities if it were to win her affections.

* * *

"_I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once." – John Green_

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed it! The story is moving right along now. If there's anything specific you'd like me to incorporate into the story, please let me know! Because of the review from Whisper May, I'll be adding in some elements of Hogwarts dueling!**


	5. Part I - Friendly Favors

**A big thanks to JoFrench22 and WeFellOut for their reviews; I'm completely flattered and I'm so happy that you are enjoying the story! I'm on spring break so I've spent a lot of time working on this story, planning out where I'm heading with it, etc. There are some big developments coming in a few chapters! Enjoy.**

* * *

Friendly Favors

_December 5, 1943_

"Avery's waiting for you downstairs," Faye told her.

Rose looked at her in surprise and set down her book, swinging her legs to the side of her bed and hopping off. "We don't have plans today. That's odd."

Faye shrugged and headed into their shared bathroom. Rosemary slipped on a pair of flats and walked down the stone spiral staircase that led to the common room. He was standing at the bottom, leaning against it. "Markus…I'm surprised to see you. Usually you aren't awake until noon on Sundays," she forced herself to say in a playful voice. She thought he must have been looking for a quick snogging session or something of the sort.

Surprisingly, he didn't respond to her light teasing. Instead, he gave her a serious look and said, "I need to talk to you about something. Can we go somewhere private?"

"Sure," she nodded, curious. "I'll run upstairs to get my coat and then we can go outside."

Rose retrieved her gray wool coat and returned to him, wondering if he was finally going to come clean about Rebecca. She saw how it would end: surely, he would apologize and insist that he would treat her better this time. She would do her best to forgive him and things would go back to normal. It wasn't really what she wanted; what she wanted was to rid herself of him entirely, but at least this way she wouldn't have to deal with her parents.

They didn't speak to each other until they arrived at their destination: the snow-covered front lawn of Hogwarts. It was cold, but Rose loved the cold. Avery took a carton of cigarettes from his front coat pocket and offered them to her. She took one and he did the same, subsequently lighting them both.

He took a deep sigh and said, "Okay, please try to understand that I never meant for you to get hurt…"

"You're sleeping with Orion, I know." She would at least spare herself from looking like a complete fool.

He looked at her in surprise and chuckled despite himself. "I suppose I'm not as clever as I'd like to think." Then he turned serious once more. "But really, Rosie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." The next part was something Rose had not anticipated: "I think it's best that we put an end to this. We just sort of fizzled, you know?"

She was internally panicking. She hadn't yet worked out a plan around her parent's wishes and had been waiting until that was the case. Then, Avery mentioned something she _really _hadn't anticipated. "I know neither of our parents will take this well, but they'll have to get over it. You need to stand up to yours; I don't think you'll be happy until you do." He sent her a hopeful smile. "Who knows, maybe they'll understand."

She doubted this would be the case, but was nonetheless reassured somewhat by the fact that he had at least thought through her position before speaking with her. It made her think that he wasn't truly as careless as he had been acting for the past few months. Perhaps their friendship could at least be salvaged. She nodded slowly and said "It's the right thing for us to do. I can't keep putting on the same act."

"Neither can I."

"With that said, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell your parents until I have the chance to tell mine. I'd rather them hear it from me. And I _certainly _don't want everyone to know that you were sleeping around with Rebecca Orion, the Slytherin skank."

"Clearly you aren't bitter at _all_. She's really not that bad…" He smirked at her and she glared back at him. "I can agree to that, though. I owe you that much."

"Yes, you do," Rose added pointedly. "Well, no need to drag this out. We've had some fun times over the years."

"I want to remain friends. You should know that I did love you once, Rosie…" For the first time that morning, Avery looked genuinely sad and she assumed that his mind was flooded with their memories in the same way hers was.

"We'll stay friends," she told him, even though they both knew there was a chance that it wouldn't work out that way. They both looked away from each other and a silence fell over them as he stomped out his cigarette.

"Ready to head inside?" he asked finally.

"I'm going to finish mine," she said, breathing in the smoke. "I'll see you later."

"Bye Rose." He leaned in to kiss her cheek one last time before returning inside. She watched him go, feeling both hopeful and disturbed at the fact that such a large part of her life could come and go in a moment's notice. They had known each other for years, after all, and it was impossible to not feel at least a twinge of bittersweet reminiscence.

"You _what_?"

"We broke up," Rosemary said plainly.

Faye massaged the spot between her two eyebrows as if she had bumped her head and hadn't heard properly. She looked up at Rose. "_Why_? Also, why aren't you upset?"

"It just wasn't working; we want different things is all," Rose told her with a shrug. At least they were half-truths.

"But it's Rose and Markus. Markus and Rose…You're _perfect_ together. Everyone thinks so!"

"Everyone else's opinion is irrelevant, Faye! It's not their relationship." Clearly, she wasn't getting the picture. Rosemary sighed and lowered her voice, glancing around the dormitory to make sure that Loretta and Emily weren't around. "I'll tell you the real reason, but you can't breathe a word to _anyone_."

"Wait, wait. Let me guess. Markus found out about your little crush on Riddle." Faye's mouth split into a devilish smirk.

Rose froze for a moment, but knew there was no way for Faye to know that she actually did fancy Tom. She responded cheekily: "Well, you know what? Just for that little remark, I don't think I'm in the mood to tell you any longer."

Faye giggled as Rose proceeded to glare at her. "Oh, come now my love, you _have _to tell me." She threw her arms around Rose's shoulders, trying to break her scowl. "Please, you must. I'll stay awake for weeks."

Rose cracked a smirk, unable to stay annoyed with her closest friend. "Alright, alright." She took a deep breath and said "He was sleeping around with Orion. Faye you can't tell anyone, please."

Her jaw literally dropped. "Rebecca Orion, are you kidding me? I knew I should have slipped that Hair-Shedding Solution into her glass of firewhiskey at the beginning of the year." She shook her head in disbelief. "Bloody hell…Rebecca Orion. She's disgusting! She's only shagged every Slytherin boy from fourth year and above. Are you sure he didn't give you anything? You know, like sexually-related."

"He didn't," Rose gave her a resentful look. Sometimes Faye had no boundaries whatsoever.

"Well I can certainly understand why you wouldn't want anyone to know. I don't know if I can see Avery the same way ever again. I would be _so_ embarrassed."

"_Thanks_," she said sarcastically. "I am." Her glare intensified and then turned threatening. "Which is why you aren't going to tell anyone."

"Obviously not. Then I'd be friends with the girl who got cheated on with Rebecca Orion."

"You're the absolute worst. Why did I think it was a good idea to tell you?"

"Merlin, Rose, you know I'm joking." Faye rolled her eyes as though Rose was just being dramatic and had no reason to be offended.

"_Anyway_, things ended well regardless; we'll still be friends."

"That's good, I suppose." Faye paused for a moment and then said, "Wait a moment, if you and Avery are finished, then so are Lestrange and I! You promised we'd go on a double to Hogsmeade!"

Before Faye's panic could worsen, Rose reassured her. "I'll find a way to make it happen. I promised you; it'll be okay…" Her voice turned sarcastic once more. "But also, thanks for caring about_my _situation instead of your own."

"Sorry, that was a bit insensitive, wasn't it?" Faye took a deep breath. "Well, you should celebrate! You're single now and you can snog the first person you see! Or, you know, _Tom Riddle._"

"Would you stop that?" Rose smacked her arm playfully.

Faye laughed again, and then said in a more serious tone "It will be okay, Rose. I know you must be worried and I know how traditional your parents are. But it will be okay. You know I'm here for whatever you need."

Even in the midst Faye's merciless teasing and callous remarks, there were always moments such as these that reminded Rose why they were best friends. "Thank you."

While Rose was worried about telling her parents, there was such a sense of relief that came with ending her phony relationship with Markus that she couldn't help but feel happy about it. Not to mention the fact that, thanks to Faye's teasing, Rose was keenly aware of the fact that she actually had a chance with Tom. It was a thought that she had not yet bothered to entertain because of her former situation, but now, it filled her with fresh hope. For the first time in weeks, she felt hoisted from the momentous cynicism to which she had become a victim.

"Well, should we get lunch?" Faye asked her.

"I'd love to, but I have patrol this afternoon."

"You Prefects are always busy, aren't you? I'm going to go down then; I missed breakfast so I'm starved."

"I'll see you later," Rose said as she stood to change into her school robes and pinned on her prefect badge.

She made her way to the fourth floor, where she was assigned to begin her patrol. Just as she began to wonder who would be assigned to work with her during her shift, a familiar tall frame turned the corner in his usual confident gait and she couldn't believe her luck. She took in his dark eyes and handsome face; it was almost enough to make her melt right then and there.

"Hello, Tom," Rose said while sending him a warm smile, trying not to sound overly excited to see him.

He returned her smile with his, polite and formal as always. "Hello, Miss Horton. Are you on patrol now?"

"I am; it looks as though we'll be working together this afternoon."

He nodded and they began walking through the corridor together. She wondered if she should tell him about her and Avery; Tom was first and foremost Markus' friend, after all. After several moments of turning it over in her mind, she realized she simply couldn't resist. She looked up at him and said "Have you spoken to Markus this morning?"

* * *

He had, of course; Avery informed him that he had talked to Rose as soon as he returned to their dormitory. But Tom was more interested in what she had to say on the matter. He wanted to detect if she had residual feelings for Avery and to know if she was upset. Giving her a look of cluelessness, he said "No, I haven't. Why do you ask?"

"We broke up this morning, finally."

She certainly didn't seem upset; if she was, she was excellent at hiding it. Rather, she seemed satisfied and it perhaps the most genuinely happy that he had ever seen her. Still, he wasn't sure how to proceed. Did he trust his perception of her enough to assume her feelings? He settled on: "I suspect this had something to do with the unpleasantness regarding Miss Orion."

"Yes, but we've agreed to leave that out of the picture, so please don't mention it to anyone else."

"I wouldn't think of it," Tom said. He certainly wasn't a gossip and was slightly offended that she inferred he might be.

"I know you wouldn't, I just felt like I should say something just in case you hear someone suggest it," she said; perhaps she had sensed his slightly defensive tone. "I know that rumors will begin by the end of the day."

"I would ask you if you are upset, but you seem to be more relieved than anything."

"I am." She smiled one of her breathtaking smiles.

She changed the subject then, discussing the Transfiguration exam they took the week prior. He kept up with the conversation for the most part, but was heavily distracted by the satisfied feeling that had washed over him. She was so close now, but the hardest part still lay ahead. How would he ever garner enough courage to make his move? It seemed so ridiculous to have paralyzing fear in the face of her, but it couldn't be helped. His dedication to winning her had certainly not subsided; it was intensely bolstered by this recent development. He knew that when the time was right, he would push past his reservations and do what he needed to do; he always did. The issue was waiting for the right time and knowing when that right time was. She looked so delicious to him with her bright pink lips and ocean-colored eyes. It was becoming harder and harder to resist; he hoped the "right time" came sooner rather than later.

"I almost forgot; I also wanted to thank you for saving me at Slug Club last night," she said. "I was quite embarrassed."

He was reminded of the night before and thought of the way she looked in her tight lace dress: an exquisite blend of sensuality and elegance. Tom also remembered the jealousy he felt at Slughorn's comments and that they had simply been too much to bear, but it wasn't as though he could let her see any of that. "Professor Slughorn tends to dwell too much on his students' personal matters. I don't think it's appropriate."

She nodded in agreement. "Well I suppose I'll owe you a favor."

"Not at all; I had to find some way to thank you for tipping me off about our first Potions lesson." He gave her a small smile and her dark blue eyes met his for a moment; he wished it was for much longer.

Rose gave him a look as though she had suddenly remembered something important. "Actually, I have another favor I may need to ask of you."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. What could it be? Innumerable possibilities, mostly irrational in nature, flashed through his mind.

_You want me to kiss you? To run my hands through your beautiful hair? To tell you how I've been thinking of you, and only you, for weeks? To touch you everywhere, all at once? Would you like me to whisper in your ear the things I'd love to do with you?_

_Why, yes, I think I can manage that Miss Horton._

These possibilities proved to be slightly too hopeful.

"I promised Faye that I would arrange an outing to Hogsmeade so that she and Adam could get to know each other more. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but she's quite obsessed with him. But now that Markus and I are over, I don't see that happening. Unless, of course, you wouldn't mind taking his place? There's a trip scheduled for next weekend and we wouldn't even have to stay the entire time. We'd just go with them and duck out after a bit so they're forced to have some time alone. Normally I wouldn't bother with this sort of thing, but I promised her and she'll be intolerable to live with if I don't make it happen somehow."

He couldn't help but wonder: was it a date? Perhaps, though, she had just asked him because he and Lestrange were friends. Either way, he wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to be near her.

"I should be available next weekend. Do you want me to ask Lestrange about it?"

"Would you? I would very much appreciate it!" She had a delighted look upon her face and it made him feel pleasant to know that he was the one that caused it.

"It's nothing, Miss Horton. I wouldn't want Miss Donohue to keep you up all night, discussing her frustration on the matter." He gave her a smirk. "Especially because your exhaustion might impact our work in Potions. That just wouldn't do. If Scout and Edgewood got a better mark than us, I would be inclined to drop out of Hogwarts entirely."

She laughed. "Oh Tom, you're terrible. But in all seriousness, I completely agree and it's likely that I would be just as devastated."

Why were things so easy with her, but so taxing with everyone else? He laughed with her without thinking or trying. She delighted him so naturally; he felt intoxicated by her presence. Even the way she said his name, the only reminder of his dead muggle father, made him hate it just a little less.

"Well, you won't have to worry about that in any case. We work together so well, Tom."

He couldn't tell if she was just being friendly or if there was something potentially more flirtatious behind her words. Her unfaltering confidence hid any potential motive and the answer to this question. He knew that it would continue threatening to drive him to the edge of insanity until he could know for certain.

They continued their patrol and lighthearted conversation until they reached the dungeons. He offered to escort her back to the Ravenclaw Tower, but she politely declined, saying that she was going to try and find Faye.

Well that answered his question, didn't it? If she fancied him, surely she would have taken him up on his offer. Then she went and perplexed him once again: "I'm looking forward Potions tomorrow, and our trip next weekend of course."

"Likewise," he smiled at her, once again balancing on the fine line of seeming friendly while also concealing his true feelings.

Rosemary told him goodbye and left the dungeons. He stood there and watched her go until she rounded the corner at the end of the hallway, still not sure what to make of her comments. He turned around toward the Slytherin common room and saw Markus standing near the entrance, smirking slightly.

He was annoyed that Avery's idiotic face had distracted him from his pleasant thoughts. "Who in the hell do you think you're looking at?" Tom snapped, walking past him into the common room. The smirk quickly vanished and Avery followed behind him.

* * *

"_Have you no idea that you're in deep? I dreamt about you nearly every night this week." – Alex Turner_

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**Yay! Now that Markus is out of the picture, Tom can finally make his move! Or will he? You'll find out soon! As always, I love love love reviews and would be delighted to hear from any of you!(:**

**Have a great week and weekend!**


	6. Part I - Fantasies

Fantasies

_December 11, 1943_

They rolled beneath the sheets, sweaty and grasping each other everywhere. He turned her onto her back and climbed on top of her, kissing her lips passionately. His lips trailed down her neck and ran his tongue along her collar bone as she felt a wonderful shiver throughout her body.

He played with her breasts and teased her opening with his erection. He stopped kissing her, gazing at her with his dark eyes. "And what should I do now, Miss Horton?"

"Fuck me," she could barely speak, delirious with pleasure.

"I'm not convinced." He leaned close to her and whispered this into her ear.

"Please, Tom. Please, fuck me."

He gave her a smirking, satisfied look and she dug her nails into his back, letting out a gasp as he pressed himself inside of her.

* * *

Rosemary woke in a sweat, her heart pounding and head fuzzy. She remained in bed for a few moments, replaying the dream in her head for as long as she could before the details began to slip away. Tom Riddle had become a regular occurrence in her dreams, but they had _never _been quite so graphic. It seemed like the longer she nursed her infatuation of him, the more she craved him in an animal-like way. It was odd to her; she had never felt this sort of intensity for Markus.

She knew it was early, but the dream had left her wide awake and rather invigorated, not to mention outrageously turned-on. Rose just hoped that she would be able to push its memory from her mind when she saw Tom later that day for their trip to Hogsmeade.

By the time she showered and fixed her hair five different ways before deciding to wear it the first way she had tried, Faye had also woken up and began getting ready.

"Why did you have to ask Riddle?" she sighed. "I still can't believe it. It's going to be _so_ awkward with him there."

"How so?" Rose asked while applying blush to her cheekbones.

"Well, hm, let me see…" She paused dramatically, pretending to think. "He's only the least sociable person at Hogwarts. How will Adam and I be able to talk at all?"

"He's plenty sociable. Just because he doesn't subscribe to _Witch Weekly _doesn't mean that he's not."

"Look at you, defending your boyfriend. How sweet." Faye put on some mascara as Rose glared at her.

"He's not my-"

"I know, I know. You just find him _interesting_. Fine, he can be sociable, but he definitely doesn't know how to have a good time. Honestly, I don't see how talking to him is any different than sitting in class. He may as well be a professor with the way he carries on…"

"Well, I don't mind it. By the way, I thought you might be a little more thankful that I set this whole thing up. We're only going to be there for a few minutes anyways. We'll give some excuse and then leave you and Lestrange to fall madly in love over a few cups of tea."

Faye's opinion of him genuinely puzzled Rose. She seemed to be the only person at Hogwarts that had a negative opinion of Tom and for such shallow reasons. He was too intellectual, really? One would think that someone in the Ravenclaw house would appreciate someone of such brilliance, but Rose knew that Faye didn't place the same importance on it. She was smart of course, but was quite insecure about the "bookworm" stereotype of their house and spent nearly all of her energy trying to avoid being labeled as such. Even Rose held this insecurity to some degree during their first few years at Hogwarts, but she had grown out of it by the time they were third years. It was because of this constant worry that Faye poured over the tabloids like _Witch Weekly_and spent more time partying with friends than she ever did on homework. Tom was serious, reserved, and dedicated, which were all of the traits that Faye constantly attempted to rid from herself. This was probably the real reason for her dislike.

All of Faye's comments may have bothered her a lot more if she wasn't so excited to spend the morning with Tom. Besides, Rosemary knew that Faye was probably just giving her a hard time because she was so nervous about seeing Lestrange; teasing Rose about Tom was likely a nice enough distraction for her.

About an hour later they made their way to the Great Hall, where their male companions were waiting for them.

"Hey Adam!" Faye gushed. Her voice went flat when she turned to greet the other Slytherin with a slight wave. "Riddle."

Thankfully, Tom hadn't seemed to notice; or at least, he pretended not to.

"Let's get going!" Rose started toward the doors.

Faye and Adam fell back a little bit, but Tom kept pace with her. "Where to?" he asked.

She felt instantly weak when he spoke to her with his calm, even voice. "Faye wants to go to Madam Puddifoot's so there's no question in Adam's mind that they're on a date," she told him in a hushed voice, referencing the tea shop so popular among teenage lovers.

"I see." Tom smirked at her. "This will be interesting."

"Yes, it will."

Faye and Adam caught up, so their conversation about the other couple was brought to an abrupt halt. They trekked through the snow to Hogsmeade, which was swarmed with Hogwarts students, as expected. It was the last trip before all of the students returned home for the holidays, and many were out and about finishing up their Christmas shopping. Most of them were also headed to The Three Broomsticks, which would have been where Rosemary had chosen for them to go if Faye hadn't been so adamant on the tea shop.

When they arrived at Madam Puddifoot's, were seated, and ordered their tea, her instincts of wanting to go to The Three Broomsticks were validated. The tea shop was quaint and pleasant in its own way, but _very_ uncomfortable for double dates wherein it was clear that no one knew quite what to say. At least at the pub, there was plenty of noise and other people to watch or comment on.

"Can you believe this weather? It's awful," Faye said, clearly uncomfortable at their silence.

Rosemary inwardly cringed. Faye was talking about the _weather_? She thought about trying to spare her friend by changing the conversation, but this was the perfect opportunity to pay her back for all of her remarks about Tom. She was going to make this as awkward as possible and enjoy every moment of it. Her mouth curled into a smirk as she said "I don't know, I rather like the cold. What do you think, Tom?"

Faye knew exactly what Rose was doing and glared at her across the table. The only thing worse than starting a conversation about the weather and realizing your faux pas, is when it is helplessly rubbed in your face.

Before Tom had a chance to answer, their waitress returned to the table with their tea, along with some finger sandwiches and little cakes. Rose picked up her cup of Earl Grey and took a sip, giving Faye a chance to change the conversation.

Thankfully, she took it. "So, that was quite the Quidditch match yesterday! I didn't think there was any way Slytherin could have made a comeback, but you did!"

Adam certainly perked up at that; he loved talking about Quidditch just as much as Markus did. "Well, you know, it's all about the teamwork…"

He carried on for a few minutes and Faye gazed at him, positively transfixed. She glanced at Rose for a moment and smiled, looking so genuinely happy to be there with him. Rose checked the clock at the wall, thinking that it may be a good time to leave since things were on a good note.

"Oh, Tom! I've completely forgotten…we have our Prefect meeting _today_ don't we?"

He played along, as planned. "Yes, you're right. I must've forgotten too."

"We should get going," she said quickly, hurrying to put on her coat and scarf.

"Oh no, I wish you could stay!" Faye's voice sounded pouty, but her eyes danced with delight. Adam, on the other hand, looked completely clueless.

"You know we can't. Dippet is very strict about these meetings," Rose told her while reaching for her coin purse to pay for her tea. She looked up, surprised to see that Tom had already placed three Sickles on the table, exactly enough to cover both of their teas and the tip.

They said goodbye to Adam and Faye and headed outside. "Thank you for that, you didn't have to pay for me…"

"It's nothing," he said, giving her that confident half-smile that she so enjoyed. He was such a gentleman and it charmed her to no end.

"Well, where to now?" she asked and then added nervously "I mean we can go back to Hogwarts if you want. We don't have to stay out."

"I don't mind either way. You know, the _weather_ really isn't that bad." He smirked at her.

Rose laughed, remembering the awkward conversation. "That was so painful!"

"It was."

"I don't know what she was thinking." Rose paused, desperately trying to come up with something for them to do instead of return for Hogwarts. She wanted to spend as much time with him as possible and wasn't about to pass up this opportunity. But she didn't want to seem desperate to hang out with him, either. She tangoed back and forth with what to do, but decided to take a chance and ask him if he wanted to go to Hogsmeade's bookstore, Tomes and Scrolls.

"Sure," he agreed, with his usual calm, nonchalant air that drove her mad with wonder.

They walked together to the store and it all seemed very surreal for a moment, to be there with him. He was there, spending time with her, presumably by choice. It made her indescribably excited and nervous all at once. She looked up at his handsome face and the memories of her dream from that morning came back in full force.

Rose allowed herself to bask in the thoughts for only a moment. Because of her own arrogance, it occurred to her that if he was anyone else, she could likely seduce him and make her erotic dream a reality; she knew that she wasn't unattractive, not to mention the fact that boys her age were somewhat predisposed to accept any sort of proposed physical contact. But Tom was so very different from most boys her age. Surely he would only look down on that type of advancement.

Anyway, she didn't _just_ want him physically. She wanted so much more from him; she wanted to explore his brilliant mind and the bounds of his sarcastic wit, to find who he was behind his guarded exterior. The question was: how long was she willing to wait before taking matters into her own hands?

* * *

It was a wonderful moment, just to walk around and talk with her without the distraction of a potion or Donohue and Lestrange. He was certainly glad to get out of the stuffy tea room; it had been so uncomfortable and quite frankly, tiring. Tom certainly didn't enjoy being around Faye Donohue, Rosemary's closest friend. He found it odd that they were even friends, as Donohue seemed particularly vapid. Regardless, now that he was alone with Rose, he felt refreshed; going back to Hogwarts was the furthest thing from his mind and he was pleased that she had suggested an alternative.

They arrived at Tomes and Scrolls and they began looking at the rows and rows of books. Tom had been there before, but was always rather disappointed in their collections. The books rarely featured any subject that wasn't already taught in Hogwarts, such as more advanced Dark Arts. He supposed this was due to the shop's close proximity to the school and that its primary patrons were therefore Hogwarts students.

He pretended to browse the aisles of books, but really he was watching her. She was slightly biting her bottom lip, which was both adorable and suggested she was having a hard time choosing what subject to read. This reminded him once again about her attitude of undying curiosity for nearly every subject. It was one of the many reasons that he had developed feelings for her, after all. If she wasn't there with him, he would probably face the same dilemma of choosing which book to read, but Rose was simply too much of a distraction.

She pulled a book, _Alchemy: Ancient Art and Science_, from the shelf and examined it for a moment. Then she turned to him and asked, "Did you find anything?"

"Oh, erm, yes!" Tom looked to his right and grabbed the book nearest him and held it up. To his dismay, it was a Muggle Studies textbook.

_Great going; now she thinks you're a Muggle-lover of all things…_

Thankfully, she didn't seem to have noticed his choice in literature, if such a book could even qualify as literature. He followed behind her as she led them upstairs. The one thing he quite enjoyed about the store was the large reading room that was located in a loft above the shop area. There were several comfortable chairs with a large wood-burning stove in the corner. Customers were free to use it to relax and read as they pleased.

Tom took a chair and Rosemary sat in the one across from him. She lounged in it sideways, swinging her legs over one armrest, and resting her back against the other side. Due to the way she was sitting, her skirt had crept up her legs and revealed the lace trim of her thigh-high stockings. There was that feeling again: that inability to breathe. Rose shifted and her skirt crept even higher so he could catch a peek of her light skin. Her legs looked so smooth; he desperately wanted to touch her there and place his hands even higher if she would let him.

Tom forced himself to avert his eyes and to look at the book in his hands, pretending to read while he continued to fantasize about her. What was she doing to him? It was both worrisome and delicious at once. He had never before entertained much of a sex drive, but now it was nearly all-consuming. If he didn't have as much natural talent for his classes, the distraction of her might have impacted his grades negatively.

They sat there for nearly an hour and he found that he truly appreciated the simplicity of it; they could enjoy each other's company without words. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to entertain the notion that it might be like this all the time if she was his. He imagined studying for exams with her as she curled up next to him on one of the Slytherin common room couches, occasionally taking breaks to snog, of course.

Rosemary glanced up at the clock in the corner of the room. "We should probably head back."

He nodded in agreement, but his insides were slumping in disappointment. They left the store after she purchased the book she had been reading, stepping out into the afternoon's fresh snow.

It made him nervous when he noticed that she had grown somewhat quiet after leaving the bookstore. Had she expected him to talk with her more while they were inside? Was she bored just sitting there reading with him? He mentally kicked himself for not thinking to keep her more entertained and contemplated whether or not he should ask if something was wrong.

When they reached the gates to Hogwarts, she stopped walking. She took out her packet of cigarettes, offered one to him, and he took it. Like nearly everyone at Hogwarts in the 40s, he had picked up the habit around thirteen. He leaned against one of the iron gates and looked down at her through their smoke. The snow around them seemed to make her red hair shine even more brilliantly. After a silence that he wanted desperately to fill, she said, "I'm really dreading going home next week. I'll have to tell my parents about Markus and I…and I know they won't take it well."

Rose had mentioned this issue to him in the past, and he had his theory of how her type of family operated in such situations, but he had yet to talk to her directly about it. He wasn't quite sure what to say, but thought it should be something reassuring: "It may take a while to sink in, but I'm sure they will understand."

"I really doubt that," she scoffed. "You know, I'm rather jealous of you. I wish I was a man so I didn't have to give up everything I want to please mummy and daddy." Rose sighed and looked away from him. "I know it all sounds so ungrateful and childish, but I absolutely loathe that I don't get to choose anything for myself."

Her mood made him feel rather conflicted. Admittedly, he loved seeing the cynical side of her because it reminded him so much of his own tendencies toward darker thoughts. On the other hand, he was beginning to realize that seeing her upset made him desperately want to find a way to make her happy again.

"You don't sound ungrateful, nor do you sound childish," he managed.

In that moment, Tom wanted very much to talk her out of her feelings of helplessness. He could somewhat understand where she was coming from, but didn't think he could come up with the right combination of words to comfort her. He had never experienced her situation, nor did he have any genuine experience in giving advice.

He was distracted from this dilemma when a question sprung to his mind that he genuinely wanted to know the answer to: "What would you do with your life, if you were given the choice to do anything you wanted?" Tom realized that he had spoken impulsively and hoped that she wouldn't take it the wrong way, as if he had ignored her concerns.

Rosemary looked at him and gave him a small smile, which reassured him. "I've thought about it quite a bit and I'd love to be a Healer, maybe even at St. Mungo's."

Tom turned it over in his head and really meant it when he said, "You would be an excellent Healer, especially with your aptitude at Potions…"

"Really, you think so?" Her smiled widened.

"I do." He couldn't help but smile back at her. Before he knew it, his next words were pouring from his mouth without warning or thought. "You know, if your parents were to just marry you off someone who doesn't appreciate your natural brilliance, it would be a tragic waste. I truly hope that does not happen."

These had been his thoughts, but with horror, he realized he had spoken them out loud. He had been doing so well, so very careful to keep things entirely platonic until he was prepared to make his move. But, surely now, she would think he was coming on too strong.

It felt like eternity before she responded, mostly because he was so nervous. "Thank you, Tom. That means so much," she said finally. "Bloody hell, you always listen to my rants; I'm not sure how you find the patience. You've been a really good friend to me this year."

_Good friend?_

He inwardly winced; it felt like she had cursed him. Clearly, she had sensed the forwardness in his words and her comment was meant to put him in his place, which was exactly what he had worried about. She finished her cigarette and dropped it down to the snow. Now he was simply too filled with hopelessness to find anything else to say to her, even though he knew he should.

But then, inexplicably, she moved close to him and, standing on her toes to reach him, she lightly pressed her lips to the side of his face. His insides went crazy, but he somehow maintained his composure, remaining as unreadable as possible. He could smell the smoke on her breath and more than anything, he wanted to grasp her in his arms and move his mouth to meet hers. But he didn't. He simply looked down at her as she pulled away and gave her the smallest smile that he possibly could, so as to not draw attention to the fact that he had enjoyed it so much.

"I mean it. Thank you." She smiled.

They began to walk across the Hogwarts grounds toward the castle. Once again, he was completely clueless as to what her feelings were. A kiss on the cheek could be seen as normal for close friends, after all. Still, he didn't feel quite as hopeless as he had been seconds before. Tom tried to commit every detail of the kiss to memory. He could still feel her hot breath against his cheek and remembered that her long hair had just slightly brushed against his face. He also noticed was her kiss had developed some sort of dull ache deep inside of him. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but he had an odd feeling of certainty that it wouldn't go away until he could be that close to her again.

* * *

"_Cigarette daydream; you were only seventeen. So sweet with a mean streak, nearly brought me to my knees." – Matthew Shultz_

* * *

**Alright, hopefully you enjoyed the chapter! Now, I do have responses to a couple reviews. I know my chapters aren't super long and I've toyed with the idea of making them longer. I think what I'll do instead is try to update twice a week instead of once. On a completely unrelated note, props to Jofrench22 for noticing that Rose's hair is the same color as Lily Evans'! This **_**is**_** intentional, but that's really all I can reveal about it for now! It will be quite a few chapters until it becomes important and I'm just beginning to lay the groundwork for many of the twists and turns to come.**

**Anyway, thank you so much for the reviews! They are quite motivating and keep me focused on writing and planning the story.**


	7. Part I - Happy Holidays

Happy Holidays

_December 21, 1943_

Tom walked through the empty halls of Hogwarts, passing only one or two students on his way to the library. He very much enjoyed the peace and quiet, but wished that Rose could be there with him. It had only been four days since she went home for the winter holidays and he already longed to see her again.

His mind traveled back to the sensation of her lips against his face, a memory he had already replayed innumerable times. It was all he could think of in their last Potions lesson; he had tried fervently to read her emotions the entire class period, but she was as nonchalant as usual. He felt a nasty feeling in his stomach while thinking back to this; surely her indifference signified a nail in the coffin of his hopes to become much more to her.

Still, while he knew it was irrational and most certainly detrimental to his mental health, he couldn't conceive of simply giving up his pursuit. Never before had he been enthralled by a person; thinking of her had become his addiction, an unbreakable habit. He knew that Rose wasn't just a phase that he could shrug off and move on from. As such, it was clear that he needed to change his strategy on how he was approaching her, but he had no idea where to start.

The only way he could distract himself from her now that she was away for the holidays was by pouring over thousands of pages in the restricted section of the Hogwarts library. Entrance into the guarded section of the library was the best part of becoming a sixth year student, in Tom's opinion. He had learned of so many subjects that he yearned to incorporate into his magical repertoire, but he found that legilimency and horcruxes were by far the most intriguing. He had met with Professor Slughorn earlier in the year about the latter, long before his daily distractions in the form of Rosemary Horton.

It felt pleasant to resume his research into after nearly two months of entertaining his obsession with her, but knew that the reprieve would be short-lived. As soon as he returned to his Slytherin dormitory, he would spend the rest of the evening fantasizing about her until falling asleep with a feeling of indescribable, hopeless optimism.

Tom spent the entire day at the library, only deciding to quit reading when he couldn't overcome the hunger pangs in his stomach. After going down to the Great Hall for dinner and seeing only five or six other Hogwarts students, he returned to the dungeons to see that Slughorn's office door was propped open.

Tom stopped and poked his head inside and Professor Slughorn noticed him right away. "Ah, do come in Tom! I'm just packing up to leave for the holidays now that I've finished all my grading. Don't worry, you did excellently on your exam!"

Tom _wasn't _worried about his grade, of course. There had been very few times that he genuinely questioned his performance on an exam or term paper. He went inside and stood near the fireplace as Slughorn continued to gather his things. Tom figured that it was a good time to bring up something that had been nagging at him for quite some time. "Professor, when does the selection for Head Boy and Head Girl occur?"

Slughorn gave him a warm smile. Tom had made his ambitious nature readily apparent over the years, so his professor surely knew where the conversation would be headed. "Usually the selection committee meets in mid-April and will try to let the students know by May before the end of the term."

"I see," Tom nodded. "And what exactly does the committee look for in an applicant?"

"Well, there is a preference given to current prefects. High marks are also expected and it helps if they are involved in some sort of activities outside of class and regularly participate in events that Hogwarts hosts for the students."

Everything sounded fine until the last part. Tom absolutely loathed attending any sort of Hogwarts social event, including Quidditch matches. The only reason he had gone to any of them that term was so that he could catch a glimpse of Rosemary; when she was dating Markus, she often sat in the Slytherin section to cheer for him.

"I take it that you're interested in applying?" Slughorn raised an eyebrow. "I certainly hope you do. I'd rather you not mention it to anyone, but I will be advocating that they choose you, Tom."

It was somewhat reassuring, but Tom knew that he would have to force himself to go to more school-wide events before the committee met in mid-April. "I certainly appreciate it, Professor. Just curious…who would you choose as Head Girl?"

Slughorn looked rather surprised that he had asked, but said, "Miss Horton, most likely. It's a shame that she wasn't sorted into Slytherin; the house would be nearly unstoppable with the two of you in it. You're quite the team in Potions, you know."

"I suppose we are," Tom said, with his usual cool air of indifference. "Personally, I think it should be her."

"It's rather odd that you say that. You see, Miss Horton came to my office just last week to ask about the Head Girl position. When I told her you were my pick for Head Boy, she said the exact same thing."

It took a moment for the words to register and when they did, he had to try very hard to conceal his happiness. "Quite odd indeed," was all he managed to say. A second passed before he regained his composure and said, "Well, I should be off. Happy holidays Sir."

"Always good to see you, Tom. Happy holidays!" he replied with a beaming smile.

He left Slughorn's office and couldn't help but smile to himself as he walked down the corridor toward the Slytherin common room. Surely, her words meant something more than mere friendship, as his certainly had.

Tom reached his dormitory and stretched out on his bed, letting the feeling of pure satisfaction wash over him. He thought of a million ways that he could look into her deep blue eyes and say the words "_I fancy you. Quite a bit, actually_." How he wished that she was there now; he finally felt confident enough in her feelings to say what he desperately needed to.

He glanced at his desk and saw a piece of parchment and a quill sitting atop it. Did he dare put his feelings into a letter? Mentally he weighed this decision; if he had to face rejection, it would probably be best for his pride if it wasn't in person. Then again, writing a letter may come off as potentially sappy and overly attached.

Tom sighed and moved to sit at his desk, deciding that he would write her and give another hint of his affections while maintaining a degree of subtlety.

_Dear Miss Horton,_

_I hope you're enjoying the holiday so far. I've spent most of my time in the Hogwarts library-_

He stopped writing and scrapped the page. His lack of family and holiday plans was rather embarrassing to him and something he didn't wish to advertise. Indicating that he stayed at Hogwarts over the break would certainly clue her in on that detail.

Tom began his next letter the same way and then tried to sound a bit more direct: _Admittedly, I've found myself thinking of you._

Well, it was certainly direct. Besides, wasn't the fact that he was writing her a clear enough statement that he was thinking of her? He groaned in frustration, crumbled up the parchment, and tossed it aside. Why couldn't he simply summon the charisma he used with everyone else when dealing with her? Ever since he realized his feelings for her, she seemed to have the power to render him socially inept.

He tried again and again to write her a letter and ended up with nearly six versions to choose from. From the time he began writing to when he finally chose the final letter, four hours had passed. It was nearly one in the morning as he made his way to the owlery. Thankfully, because of the holidays, there was no curfew in place.

As he watched the grey owl fly into the night, he felt antsy, but excited. But by the time he returned to his dormitory, these thoughts turned cynical and he was wide awake in bed for at least another hour contemplating his decision. What if she didn't reply or thought that it was strange that he had written to her in the first place?

When he woke the next morning, he felt as though he had barely slept, which had indeed been the case. Still, he dressed quickly, wanting to get to the Great Hall for breakfast as soon as possible. He _had_ to know if she had replied.

Tom sat at the Slytherin table, taking small bites of toast. Then he saw the owls begin to enter the Great Hall with the morning post and he pushed the food away, too nervous to continue eating. It seemed like eternity while he waited and attempted to spot the light grey owl he had sent. What if she had seen through his words to his subtle message and this was her form of rejection? More hopefully: what if the owl had delivered his letter to the wrong person?

He sucked in his breath and held it for a moment as an ivory envelope dropped in front of him. He picked it up and noticed that the parchment felt more expensive than the kind they typically used at Hogwarts. He turned it over and immediately recognized her neat handwriting from the way that all of the letters were elegantly connected. It read: _To Tom Riddle_

* * *

Rosemary sat on her bed, fuming silently. She had finally mustered up enough courage to tell her parents about her and Markus' break-up and they reacted as badly as she expected they would.

"_What?_" her mother had asked her, narrowing her eyes at Rose as if she was challenging her daughter to repeat herself.

"Markus and I broke up. Actually, he broke up with me," she said matter-of-factly, not bothering to fake any sort of grief over the relationship's end.

"May I ask why?"

"He was interested in someone else," Rose said, looking straight into her mother's matching blue eyes.

"Well, maybe you could have tried to be a bit more intriguing to him. Would it have killed you to express any sort of interest in him this summer? You barely spoke to him!" Evelyn sighed and rubbed her temples. "I don't know where we went wrong with your Rose. Perhaps we've given you too much free reign all these years. You're terribly spoiled, you know."

Rose snorted. "Free reign? You're joking, right? You've controlled everything I've ever done!"

"Rosemary," her father said in a stern voice. "Don't speak to your mother that way."

Her father's interjection only served to make her angrier. She continued on as though she hadn't heard him. "What's more, there's nothing wrong with me _not_ wanting to be with Markus."

"What is so wrong with him Rose? Why is he so unsuitable for you?" Her mother's eyes widened and she looked exasperated.

"He's basically related to us! I've known him my entire life and I'll never see him as anything more than a brother or cousin. Not to mention the fact that all he talks about is Quidditch." She nervously glanced to her left at her father, hoping he hadn't taken offense, as Quidditch was essentially the only thing he ever talked about. She didn't want to offend her only potential ally in the exchange with her mother. Fortunately, he seemed rather unfazed by her comment. "I don't think it's too much to ask to be with someone of some substance."

Her mother threw up her hands. "You are unbelievable!" She added with a voice, heavily laden with sarcasm, "I am so sorry that there is nobody worthy of your presence, Rosemary!"

The table was quiet for a moment until her mother spoke again, this time sounding much calmer. "When we attend the Avery's Christmas party this weekend, you'll talk with him and convince him to take you back."

"No, I won't," Rosemary said, heat rising to her face once more.

"Yes you will."

"I won't!

"You will, if you'd like to return to Hogwarts after the holidays," her mother said, her voice reaching that deadly calm tone that Rosemary dreaded. It was always a strong indication that Evelyn wouldn't be willing to give in and lose the argument.

Rose didn't know quite what to say; for a moment, she sat back in her chair in pure shock. "You would honestly keep me from Hogwarts if I don't get back together with Markus?"

Evelyn shrugged. "We'll do what we have to." She looked at her husband for support and Basil nodded reluctantly at his daughter. He was always weak when he came to these situations, almost always siding with her mother because of his dislike of conflict.

She couldn't take it anymore. The anger that had been stewing inside her during the entire conversation came out in a great explosion. "YOU ARE A COMPLETE FUCKING BITCH!"

"Rosemary Alana Horton!" Her father bellowed; he could be a pushover in nearly every other situation, but always put down his foot when she swore, especially at her mother. "Go to your-"

"Already going!" Rosemary snapped. She took one last glance at the satisfyingly shocked look on her mother's face before pushing her chair from the table and storming up the stairs to her room, followed by the obligatory door slam.

It was hours ago; now it was nearly two thirty in the morning. Still, she was too upset to consider sleeping. Her parents were obviously upset with her too; neither of them had come to check on her since their argument. Their house elf, Zisly, came up to her room to bring her some tea, but it grew cold on Rosemary's desk. She opened the French doors that led to her personal balcony and stepped outside to smoke for a fourth time since the exchange with her parents. She looked down at the thin, smoldering tube and wondered how likely it was that they would actually give her cancer; she had seen the news reports, but didn't know how much truth there was to them. It was one of the few Muggle afflictions that Healers could not fix.

A creature flying through the cool night air caught her vision, and she realized it was an owl. She was surprised when it flew directly toward her and perched on her balcony. Rose took the letter it carried and was puzzled by the fact that the envelope was completely blank on the outside. She went back inside and fetched a treat for the owl before sitting on her bed and removing the letter from the envelope.

_Dear Miss Horton,_

_I hope this letter finds you well and that your parents haven't taken your news regarding Avery too poorly. I wish you the best of luck in that regard. I do have some information that may lift your sprits a bit: I recently spoke with Professor Slughorn regarding the upcoming appointment of Head Boy and Head Girl for next year, as I am interested in applying. He mentioned that you were his top pick for Head Girl. I should think that you're interested in the position, especially with the prestige attached. In addition, perhaps letting your parents know of your candidacy will minimize the impact of your news._

_At any rate, if I am chosen for Head Boy, I would most certainly rather work with you on a daily basis than some of the other, well, less agreeable alternatives. I do hope you'll consider applying, if you haven't thought about it already._

_I suppose much of this could have waited until the term begins again. Mostly I was writing to say "Happy Holidays"._

_Best Regards,_

_T.M.R._

Rosemary's heart beat hard against her chest, and the words danced in a flurry around her head as she tried to decide what exactly they all meant. She was dizzy with excitement as she began to pour over his words again and again, overanalyzing every minuscule detail. It was quite flattering that he had thought of her, but it still didn't answer the question that had loomed in her mind for weeks: would they ever be more than friends? It was also rather funny; she had visited Slughorn's office a while ago about the Head Girl position and he had said the same thing about Tom.

The gray owl flew into her room and pecked at her hand impatiently for both a treat and her reply letter. She waved it away and moved over to her desk so she could begin composing her response:

_Dear Tom,_

_Thank you for your letter! I am certainly planning to apply to the Head Girl position and I hope that we're both chosen. I appreciate your concern for the situation with my parents. Unfortunately, it all ended in quite a row, but that was to be expected I suppose. I'm really looking forward to getting back to Hogwarts._

She paused, reminded of her mother's ultimatum. What if they weren't just bluffing and they actually didn't let her return to Hogwarts? The thought alone was enough to make her start crying a bit. If they followed through on their threat, it was likely that she would never see Tom again.

Rose tried her best to push the thoughts of her mind so she could finish off her letter.

_I do hope you'll have a good holiday! I'll look forward to seeing you when we get back to school._

_Happy Christmas,_

_Rose Horton_

She wondered if her closing sentence would be perceived as friendship or something more, not that it was really that suggestive anyway. It made her nervous for a moment, but she left it. It was time to start giving him some bigger hints regarding her feelings, especially since she had already kissed him on the cheek for Gods sakes. In the past few weeks, she had grown surer of them and knew that she was completely enamored with him. He was the most charming, intelligent, and handsome person she had ever met and was irrevocably drawn to him. She knew that she couldn't simply remain friends with him; it was beginning to hurt more and more.

The next morning, she made her way to her father's study. She _had _to convince her parents to let her return to school, regardless of her relationship status with Markus. If she were going to reason with anyone, it would be him. In truth, she wasn't really close with either of her parents, but her father was clearly the better option to speak with. Her mother was simply too stubborn and infuriating, not to mention the fact that the word compromise was not in Evelyn's vocabulary. She lightly knocked on the door before stepping inside.

He looked up at her and started sternly, "Have you apologized to your mother?"

"No," Rosemary said. "I will, but I wanted to talk to you first."

He folded up the _Daily Prophet_ and set it on his desk in front of him, giving her his full attention.

She tried to steady her voice, though she was nervous. "I won't be with Markus, nor will I drop out of Hogwarts. I know that you and mum want me to settle down after I graduate and I understand. All I ask is that you just give me a chance and let me find the person that I'm going to have to spend the rest of my life with. If I can't find anyone you approve of by the time I graduate, then you can marry me off to someone. But please, don't keep me from Hogwarts."

Of course, she already had someone in mind. Perhaps it was too early to say that she would be happy spending her life with him, but he was certainly the best candidate at the time. There was something possibly irrational inside her that told her they belonged together, but she couldn't determine if it was intuition or infatuation. Either way, she hoped with her entire being that Tom felt the same way for her. If he did, it would work out well for everyone. Her parents would surely approve of him; she didn't know his family, but judging from his mannerisms, it seemed clear that he came from a wealthy one.

Her father was quiet for a moment until he finally met her gaze. "Okay, Rosemary" he said. "That's fair."

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"_There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy, and the tired." – F. Scott Fitzgerald_

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**I hope you liked this chapter! I know that it's getting a little painful, waiting for Rose and Tom to get together...but be patient! In the next couple of chapters you can expect some major progress. Oh, and I know I'm focusing a lot on just these two right now, but once they are together, I'm going to expand on the other characters in the story a lot more. On another note, I've posted picture links on my profile for all of the characters that have appeared in the story so far. Check 'em out if you'd like to see what I envision them all looking like!**

**I'll be back on Sunday (hopefully?) with another update! Please let me know what you think in the comments section below!**


	8. Part I - A Diffident Duelist

**Thank you sooo much to those that have favorited and followed my story! It's good to know that people are reading it(: Thanks again to Jofrench22 and aviditas for their reviews! I've been sick all week so I haven't been able to write much, but thankfully I wrote this chapter last weekend so I could publish on time. By the way, I'm going to be updating every Thursday and Sunday unless something comes up and gets in the way of that! The end of my last semester in undergrad is quickly approaching and I have a feeling things are going to start getting a little hectic. I'll try to let you know in advance if I won't be able to post at the usual time, but I'm going to do my best to make sure this doesn't happen.**

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A Diffident Duelist

_January 28, 1944_

"The last announcement tonight is regarding the Hogwarts Annual Sweethearts Ball, which is quickly approaching," Headmaster Dippet began. "As prefects, some of you will be required to serve as chaperones."

The prefects looked around at each other nervously; it was the biggest social event at Hogwarts of the year and none of the prefects wanted to get stuck with chaperone duty. Rose looked over at Tom, who was sitting on the other side of the room with the other Slytherin prefects. She hoped more than anything that neither of them would have to supervise. It had been over a month since the holidays, and little progress had been made between them besides friendship. Even through their numerous correspondences over the holidays, and all the time they had spent together since, he remained indecipherable. Perhaps, she hoped, the ball would change everything between them and she would know how he felt once and for all. She still couldn't quite shake the nagging thought that this wish was too good to be true.

"We've randomly drawn the names of the four prefects…They are Mary-Ann Scout, Josephine Duprie, Vincent Bryan, and Paul Liths."

Rosemary breathed a sigh of relief as the chosen prefects looked sullenly at the Headmaster. Josephine and Vincent exchanged knowing looks; since they were Head Boy and Head Girl, their selection hadn't been random at all. Rose took another glance toward Tom, hoping his expression might somehow give away his opinion or intentions of attending the dance. Unfortunately, his face was as frustratingly blank and unreadable as usual.

After the meeting, she waited for him in the corridor. They had plans to study together, which had become their weekend ritual since Faye and Adam had begun officially dating and were rarely seen with their lips apart. It had become quite annoying to be around either of them, even when they weren't snogging, as they were constantly gushing about the other. Faye had also begun to employ a baby voice when talking to him, which pushed Rose to the brink of insanity. She found it odd that Adam didn't seem to mind her sentiments; she had never seen him act this way with anyone before in all the years she had known him through Markus. It was all rather nauseating; she couldn't imagine acting this way with anyone, not even Tom. Often, Rose wondered how it would possibly last. Wouldn't they grow sick of each other?

And so, to escape their lovesick friends, Tom and Rose started to spend nearly all of their free time together, most frequently in their favorite study room of the library. Faye was so obsessed with her new relationship that she hadn't even teased Rosemary about her blossoming friendship with Riddle, which came as a bit of a relief since they were spending much more time in each other's company. She would sit on the long couch by the fireplace, stretching out her legs over the seats while Tom sat on the other end, near her feet. Sometimes, she would straighten her legs even more so that her stocking-covered toes would just barely brush the side of his leg. Of course, she always played this off as absentmindedness, as though she didn't realize she had done it. When he didn't shift and move away, she always got a happy fluttery feeling that told her he didn't mind being close to her.

However, the ultimate question still hung in her mind like an ever-present fog: how did he see her? As a mere friend, or more?

Surely, though, she had become his closest friend just as he had become hers. She knew that he spent more time with her than any of his other friends or acquaintances. The other girls had even begun to take note; whenever they walked the halls together, she could feel their jealous glares shooting into her back. This group now included Olive Hornby, Rebecca Orion's best friend, as Adam Lestrange was now off the market. It was an admittedly satisfying feeling for Rose, knowing that she was the closest to Tom and that so many were envious of her position. She realized that it was similar when she was with Avery, though perhaps she didn't care enough for him to actually enjoy the satisfaction. But Tom had an air of complete unattainability; he really was quite a catch and he seemed so disinterested in the other Hogwarts girls' interest. It made being around him feel even more prestigious.

After the prefect meeting that afternoon, Rosemary was more even nervous to be around him than usual. Would he ask her to the ball and confirm his feelings for her, or would they continue this agonizing game?

They sat on the couch as the fireplace warmed them. She discreetly let her skirt move up her legs slightly like she always did around him, hoping that he would take notice. Rose thought that maybe one day, with enough innocent teasing, he would finally break down and make an advance, pushing her back against the arm of the couch and tracing his fingers up her inner thigh.

She tried to concentrate on her classwork, but her eyes felt magnetized toward him and she looked up at his face every minute or two. Surely, she had looked at him in the past few months more than she had looked at any other person in her entire life. Watching him read was her favorite, because his lips would part just slightly as his eyes were locked on the page in concentration. It made her want to take the book from his hands, throw it on the floor, climb on top of his lap, and kiss him hard. Distracting him just seemed like it would be so much fun.

Finally, after about twenty minutes, Rose put down her book and said, "I'm not sure I feel like doing schoolwork right now."

He calmly set down his book as well and turned his head to look at her. "Alright," he said. "What would you like to do instead?"

_Well, we could try snogging…_ she thought silently, but knew that she would never have the courage to be that direct. "I'm not sure. I just feel rather…distracted."

_By you_, she added mentally.

"I see." He smirked slightly and she couldn't tell if he had picked up on her hint or not. "Well it's two o'clock now. The dueling club will meet in a couple of hours…It might be interesting to throw a little friendly fire back and forth beforehand. Come to think of it, I don't believe I've ever seen you duel."

She felt a bit panicky for a moment. This was not at all what she had in mind. There was a reason she had made a point to avoid the dueling club meetings at all cost: she was awful at it. That and Defense Against the Dark Arts were her biggest weaknesses while they were Tom's greatest strengths. He was the youngest student in the history of Hogwarts to serve as Captain of the Dueling Club, a title he had attained at the beginning of their third year. She had seen him duel before and it was both impressive and extremely intimidating. The last thing she wanted was to show him her lack of talent; she was much too arrogant to do so. Also, what if it made him respect her less?

"I really should just head back to the common room…" she mumbled.

"You'd like to spend the evening with Lestrange and Donohue instead?" He gave her an amused look and said in a playful voice, "Oh come now…you aren't afraid you'll lose are you? You might even be able to teach me a thing or two."

She didn't know what to do; she couldn't simply back out of his challenge now. It wasn't as though she had an excuse or anywhere else to be. "Alright," she said hesitantly. Perhaps while they walked downstairs, she could figure a way out of it. If she couldn't, it was better that they dueled before the meeting so at least no one else would have to witness her defeat.

They reached the Great Hall; Tom waved his wand and began rearranging the room to prepare for their informal duel and the subsequent meeting. She frantically searched for an excuse to get out of dueling him. While he was turned away, she slipped her wand up the sleeve of her robe and said, "Oh no! I must have left my wand in my dormitory upstairs…"

He finished rearranging the tables and turned back around to give her an amused look. "Accio wand," he said, pointing his wand directly at her sleeve. It flew into his hand and he smirked at her. "Nice try, Miss Horton."

She turned bright red; clearly she was running out of options.

"Why do I keep getting the impression that you aren't very enthusiastic about this duel?" he asked her, walking toward her and giving her wand back. His voice was still teasing, and she would have enjoyed it a lot more if she wasn't panicking. "It's not like you to back down from a challenge."

Her pride was getting the best of her again when she answered, "It's fine, I was just joking around. I'm ready."

"Okay," he gave her a skeptical look for a moment and then led her to the long table. He stepped on top of it and offered his hand to help her up as she followed after him. Rose took his hand, feeling his pleasantly cool skin beneath her fingers.

"The first to disarm will win," he said.

At least her humiliation would be short-lived. There was no way she could come close to matching his dueling capabilities. She reached the end of the platform and turned to face him.

His wand was raised. "Ready?" he asked her. "Three…two…Horton, what are you doing?"

She realized that hadn't even raised her wand; instead, she stood there like a mute, unable to come up with a response of any kind.

He lowered his wand and walked over to her. "You know, I'm getting that feeling again that you don't want to do this…"

Rose realized that her hands were shaking slightly. As she looked down at them, he also took notice. "What's wrong?" he asked; the teasing tone left his voice completely and his eyes filled with concern. His worry for her made her swoon. He was the most gentle, considerate person she had ever met.

She couldn't bring herself to admit to him the truth, that she was truly awful at dueling. So she just stood there, looking up at him and feeling stupid.

"Let's sit down," he said, sitting on the edge of the table and looking up at her expectantly. She finally moved to sit next to him and she could feel his eyes on her face as she looked down in her lap. "We really don't have to duel; I was just trying to come up with something to do," he started.

* * *

Once again, she had rendered him clueless and scrambling for the right words. She looked so immensely sad, and he was terrified that he had upset her in some way. "I'm sorry," he offered.

"You didn't do anything wrong," she said, looking up at him with those sad blue eyes.

"Well, what is it then?" He knit his eyebrows together in confusion.

She sighed and a bright pink blush spread across her cheeks as she looked away from him once more. "It's just…you are so good at dueling..."

So she was afraid of losing face? That was something he could understand; he knew her well enough now to know that her arrogance paralleled even his own. Strangely, it was one of the many reasons his feelings for her had grown. "You can't be the best in everything," he gave her a smile. "You've bested me in many games of wizard's chess and have gotten higher marks on plenty of our exams, especially in Potions." It rather pained him to admit it, even though it was Rosemary and it was true.

She gave him a small smile. "You don't understand. I'm truly dreadful at dueling."

"But you also have plenty of strengths," he said. "You're one of the cleverest people I've ever met." He paused for a moment before adding, "You know, I could give you a few dueling tips sometime."

"Thanks Tom, I might take you up on that sometime." she smiled again, but she still seemed upset and this worried him. He searched his brain for something else to say that would cheer her up.

In the rather uncomfortable silence that settled between them like a thick fog, he thought back to the prefect meeting earlier that day. He wasn't sure quite what to think about the Sweethearts Ball that was coming up in the next month. He wasn't forced to attend, as he hadn't been assigned as a chaperone. It was his tradition to skip such gatherings, as the amount of socialization required was often much too exhausting to bear.

But, as he thought back to Slughorn's words regarding the Head Boy position, he felt as though he was obligated to attend the dance. After all, the selection committee was looking for someone who was involved in various school-wide events and this was the biggest event of the year.

Then there was the entirely separate issue of Rosemary. He assumed that she was planning to go, but he really had no idea. Tom worried that if he asked her, it would be the equivalent of telling her his feelings and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that. Then again, if he didn't ask her, surely she would be asked by someone else. A girl like Rosemary Horton would likely receive several invitations.

In fact, during the prefect meeting, a jealous spark had flared inside him as he saw Warren Cramer, another Ravenclaw sixth-year, turn his head toward her when they found out they wouldn't have to supervise the event. He saw them together frequently; every Monday as he sat by the window in Ancient Runes, he watched as they exited the Herbology greenhouses and walked toward the castle. They were often smiling and laughing, and he quite detested the way that he often caught Cramer looking at her. He recognized the sexual hunger in his eyes, surely craving her delicious, petite body. Tom knew, because he had seen his male peers look at girls this way for years. At least Tom had the decency to hide his attraction for Rose, though she seemed rather oblivious to even Cramer's obnoxious staring.

Tom might go mad if Cramer, or anyone else for that matter, had the opportunity to take her to the dance. He would have to ask her soon, before someone else got to her first. As she sat next to him and he watched as she forced a smile after her confession, he had a wild thought that now was a good a time as any to ask her.

He hesitated again; what if he had drastically miscalculated and she wasn't interested in him at all? Perhaps she wanted to go with Cramer or someone else entirely. This fear felt so tangible, like something was holding onto his vocal chords and preventing him from speaking. His heart beat faster, but he steadied his voice as he asked, "I was wondering, since neither of us has to chaperone, if you'd like to attend the ball with me?"

Tom looked at her nervously, watching for any sort of reaction to spread across her lovely features. He nearly let out an audible sigh of relief when her eyes immediately brightened and she beamed at him. "I'd love to," she said. He couldn't stop himself from smiling back at her; it was one of the happiest moments he'd ever had.

But as happy as he was, he realized that it didn't exactly answer all of his questions. She had answered without hesitation, which he hoped meant that there wasn't anyone else she would rather go with. He still wondered if he had made it clear enough that this was a date and not just another expression of friendship. Unfortunately, everything he came up with to correct this potential misunderstanding seemed painfully awkward. He resolved that he would make his feelings clear at the upcoming dance once and for all, though the cliché of confessing them during the Sweethearts Ball was cringe-worthy enough.

"Well, I'll leave so you can get ready for your meeting," Rose said. "Want to meet in the library again around ten tomorrow morning?"

"Sure. Have a good evening." He smiled at her as she left and stood up. He still had an hour and a half until dueling club would begin, so he wasn't sure why she had left so quickly. He hoped that inviting her to the ball hadn't made things uncomfortable between them somehow. Tom supposed that he would find out the following morning, when they met in the library.

To kill some time while he waited, he returned to his dormitory. Thanks to the upcoming Quidditch game, his roommates were gone for practice. He flicked his wand to undo the complex charm that locked one of his desk drawers, the one that held many of his most prized possessions. He pulled out the light blue scarf and brought it to his nose, breathing in until her scent filled his lungs. Rose had left it in Potions one morning and he had taken it after class, thinking he would return it to her at some point. But she hadn't asked him about it and didn't seem to miss it, so he had kept it for the time being. Sometimes, if he was feeling particularly daring, he would sleep with it close to his face and he imagined what sleeping next to her was like. Waking up earlier than his roommates and returning the scarf to its hiding place before they saw it was a small price to pay.

He was so excited to take her to the ball, but knew that he would get increasingly nervous as it approached. It would be the moment where he would open himself to her and it would be irrevocable. Either she would reciprocate his emotions or they would be outright rejected. He then wondered what would happen if she rejected him. Would their friendship remain, or would it dissolve as quickly as it began? He knew that it would be extremely difficult for him to accept defeat and move on, if he even could.

Even so, she was his only genuine friend and he cared about her in so many ways that weren't purely romantic or physical. Perhaps, he thought, he could force himself to move on if it didn't work out so they could maintain their friendship. As optimistic as this thought was, he knew deep within him that this could never be true. And so he would wait, trying again and again until she was his. He just hoped for his own sanity that it all worked out sooner rather than later.

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"_You're not my friend. Friends don't look at each other like we do." – Allison Mosher_

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**They are officially going on a date! The next _two_ chapters will be all about the night of the Hogwarts Annual Sweethearts Ball...Big things will be happening so I hope you're excited!(:(:**

**Enjoy your weeks! I'll be back on Thursday!**


	9. Part I - First Date

**Much love to Jofrench22, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, and NoneOfYourBusiness101 for their reviews **_**and**_** to all of you that have favorited and followed the story! It's really helping me to stay motivated and continue writing. I realized earlier this week that this story has been live for an entire month already! Time flies when you're putting nearly all of your free time into writing instead of studying for finals...but I digress. Enjoy the chapter!**

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First Date

_February 12, 1944_

This was it. Tom looked in the mirror and straightened his tie, feeling as though he might be sick. Avery and Lestrange were also finishing getting ready, but Tom left before them; he and Rose hadn't made plans to attend the dance with the group. He was quite sure she hadn't wanted to anyway, as Avery had invited Orion.

He waited for her at the entrance to the Great Hall, fidgeting with the two tickets in his hands. The large clock in the school's vestibule indicated that she was late. He watched as the minutes ticked by. Tom began to get increasingly nervous and the nauseous feeling returned in full force. Five minutes late? She was never late for anything. What if she had suddenly decided not to go?

Tom felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, and he was enormously relieved to turn around and see Rose standing in front of him.

"Hi Tom," she smiled. She was absolutely stunning and he fought the urge to just stand there gawking at her. Her dress was deep purple with glittering silver accents and it was long enough to just barely brush the floor. She was also wearing high heels that made her a few centimeters taller than usual, almost tall enough for him to press his lips against hers with only a slight tilt of her head. Her dark red hair was elegantly styled up, revealing her long, graceful neck. "I'm sorry I'm late."

He could barely speak, but managed to say, "Good evening, Miss Horton. You look quite breathtaking."

If he would have said something so direct even the day before, he would have been tormented with reservations regarding how she felt. However, he had fully prepared himself to change things between them once and for all that night.

She blushed slightly, and it pleased him immensely. "Thank you," she replied.

"Shall we go inside?" He offered her his arm and she took it as he led her to the entrance of the Great Hall. They presented their tickets to Professor Viesey and were ushered inside.

The room was nearly unrecognizable. There were decorations everywhere, and for a moment, he mentally disparaged the staff and student body for putting so much time and energy into a single event. Perhaps if everyone invested the same drive in academics, the school would be in a much better place.

His date was pulling him toward a table, which snapped him back to reality and out of his cynical thoughts. There were only a few remaining seats; Headmaster Dippet was about to say some opening words to signify the ball's commencement. She led him to the table where Loretta Ashcroft and Emily Springer, two of her Ravenclaw roommates, were sitting. Unfortunately, upon further investigation, Tom noticed that Warren Cramer was at the table as well, whose eyes lit up as they rested on Rose.

"Is this okay?" she whispered before sitting down.

He nodded, though he was hesitant as he watched Warren's eyes scan over her body. At least he could get some satisfaction from the fact that she was his date, instead of Cramer's. Her friends greeted her warmly and tossed a few polite greetings his way. While he often wished Rose was in Slytherin with him, Ravenclaw was certainly the next best. Those in her house didn't irritate him nearly as much as the Gryffindor or Hufflepuff students. Well, with the exception of Warren and Faye, of course.

She was in the middle of a conversation with Tom regarding the Apparition lessons they were enrolled in when Faye, Adam, Markus, and Rebecca entered the Great Hall and tried to find a table. The two girls were following the boys and were smiling and laughing with each other. He watched as a dark look passed over Rose and he recognized a small flame of a temper ignite inside of her. "Faye has changed quite a bit," she said. Her voice was convincingly calm, but he knew her well enough now that he could read her emotions in her dark blue eyes. "It's funny, really, before she and Adam were together, she wouldn't have anything to do with Rebecca."

Before Tom had a chance to respond, the darkness disappeared from her eyes, and she turned to look at him once more. "I do hope they'll serve dinner soon, I'm absolutely starved."

Her wish was granted; after Dippet said a few words, various plates of food began appearing on the table in front of them. They ate dinner, during which Tom was forced to listen to Warren's innumerable stories about his summer internship at the Ministry, many of which he had already heard during their Slug Club meetings. Though Springer was Cramer's date, Tom noticed that he kept glancing over at Rose as if to make sure that she was listening to his every word. She looked unfortunately attentive and Tom hoped that this was just out of politeness rather than genuine interest.

Tom was relieved when they finished dinner and could escape him. The Hogwarts staff began moving tables and chairs around to create space in the middle of the room for a dance floor. A band that Tom had never heard of stepped onto the stage that had suddenly appeared at the front of the Great Hall and the entire room burst into cheers and applause.

Judging from the way that Rose was clapping enthusiastically, she was quite fond of the band. "Aren't they marvelous?" she asked as they began their first song and a few couples made their way to the dance floor.

"Oh, yes," he said, pretending to be as much of a fan. He thought that she might want to dance, but his entire plan for the evening was to wait for a slower song. For one, he assumed that this would be more romantic, but it would also be much easier to dance to than a faster number. Dancing was one skill that Tom hadn't bothered to learn. "Would you like a drink?" he asked her over the music that was beginning to grow much louder.

"Sure," she took his arm again and he led her to the drinks table. He handed her a cup of punch and took one for himself as well.

Rose set down her drink on a nearby table and opened her small silver hand-purse, taking out a tiny vial. "I used an Undetectable Extension Charm to pour my entire bottle of Beefeater's in here. Want some?"

He nodded, though he truly hated the taste of her favorite intoxicant. She glanced around before pouring a generous amount in each of theirs. "Cheers." She smiled and tipped her cup against his before taking a long drink. Tom followed suit, and concealed a grimace from the taste.

For a while, they stood and drank their punch, looking out at the various couples on the dance floor. A song was ending and he was preparing himself to ask her for a dance, if a slow song began next. To his dismay, Cramer chose that exact moment to walk up to them and say, "Emily's dancing with Vince for a round; care to take a go around the floor, Horton? If that's alright with you, Riddle."

He was infuriated, but certainly didn't want Rosemary to see his jealously. "Of course," he said coolly. He watched as Warren took her hand and led her to dance. It absolutely tortured him to watch. Her first dance of the night would be with someone other than him? Why hadn't he done something else to stop it from happening?

He cursed himself and Warren Cramer as he moved closer to the dance floor to catch a better view of them. She smiled up at him and laughed at some inaudible joke he had told her. Tom felt sick once more; wasn't that the same way she looked at him? Perhaps what they had wasn't unique at all and was entirely one-sided.

Finally, an agonizing three minutes and forty-five seconds later, the song ended. Tom started onto the dance floor to steal her back from Cramer just as the band announced that they would be taking a half-hour break. He sighed in frustration, but fortunately, a record player appeared on stage and began playing a slow tune.

Tom found Warren and Rose and he said, "I believe Miss Springer finished her dance." He gestured to Warren's date on the side of the dance floor and Cramer let go of Rose.

He put one arm around her back and the other in her hand. When he touched her, he was reminded that her dress had a cut-out design that left her upper back bare. He could feel her warm skin beneath his fingertips and it took every ounce of self-restraint to quiet the growing arousal in his trousers. Rose met his gaze and smiled, and he realized that the look she had given Warren was entirely different from the look she was giving him. She looked completely relaxed and genuinely happy, while with Cramer it had been more of a polite pleasantness. The look left no questions in his mind; now, he knew with complete certainty that she felt the same way for him as he did for her.

* * *

Rose wasn't sure if she felt tipsy from the gin or the feeling of Tom's fingers resting against her exposed back. It was perhaps a bit of both. He looked so unbelievably handsome in his suit. They danced close together, occasionally meeting each other's gaze. She dreaded the song's ending; she wanted to stop time and cherish his light touch. Her only regret was that he wasn't her first dance of the evening; she had been quite surprised when Warren had asked her to dance. They were friends, of course, but not that close.

When the song ultimately did end, he didn't let go of her and she kept her hand on his shoulder. They stood like that in silence for a moment as though neither of them wanted to be the one to break contact. Fortunately, one of her favorite slow songs, a Glenn Miller tune, began and they could delay letting go of each other for a bit longer. She pondered his part of their hesitation to pull away; it should have indicated so clearly that he fancied her, but she was still too afraid to put all of her stock into so few signals. Until the words to prove it came from his mouth, she could never be certain of his feelings.

Rose glanced out across the dance floor for a moment and recognized the jealous looks being thrown her way. For a moment, she relished the satisfaction of attending the ball with the most desired boy at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, a bad taste seemed to enter her mouth when she also saw Faye and Adam dancing next to Rebecca and Markus. The couples were talking and joking back and forth as if they were all the best of friends. She didn't even care that Markus had asked Rebecca, but Faye's betrayal of her stung deeply. Faye, who had once been so loyal to Rose, was now positively amiable with Orion. She had complained to Rose extensively about how much of a bother it was to pretend to be nice to the Slytherin girl, but either Faye was an extremely good actress or she was actually developing a friendship with her. Rose worried that it was the latter. After all, Faye rarely spent time in their dormitory anymore, constantly with Adam and the other couple instead. Rose felt abandoned and it burned inside of her.

She must have had a grimace on her face because Tom said in a soft voice, "I do hope you aren't jealous that Avery brought Orion…"

"No," Rose said quickly. "It's not as though I didn't expect it. Besides, I'm quite happy that things are finished between him and me."

"So am I."

What was that supposed to mean? She looked into his eyes, the irises so dark they were nearly black. Unfortunately, they didn't betray the true meaning behind his words. Had he meant that he was happy for her simply because she was happier? Or was he happy because he fancied her and Markus was finally out of the way? Once again, she was reminded of the huge disparity that existed between Tom and everyone else that she spoke to. With everyone else, she could maintain an air of smooth confidence and didn't read much into their words. Tom, though, made her feel utterly vulnerable and open. There was no way to know what was happening inside his brilliant mind and it both terrified and fascinated her. She had an undying curiosity for him, of which she had just begun to scratch the surface.

Rose still knew almost nothing about his past. He never spoke of his family or childhood. She found it odd that she hadn't heard of his surname, though there wasn't really a doubt in her mind that he was a pure-blood. He simply had an air about him which indicated that was the case. She speculated that perhaps his parents had immigrated to Britain from some other country when he was young. It wasn't far-fetched; London and the surrounding area had become one of the most quickly flourishing wizarding communities and there was massive immigration in the early 1900s. But this was speculation at best. Rose wanted to know everything there was to know about him; his family was just one piece of a very large puzzle.

"I'm sorry about Donohue," he said, as she remembered that he had witnessed her bothered look a few moments before. "I'm sure you miss spending time with her.

Rose sighed. "It's fine. She's just acting that way because she wants to get along with Adam's friends." After a moment's pause, she added while smiling at him, "Besides, since she and Avery are constantly together, it gave me a chance to get to know you."

"That's true," he smiled back at her. "I'm certainly thankful for that."

It was then that she realized they had stopped dancing. His hand moved up her back slightly as though he was trying to pull her even closer and she stepped toward him another inch. A desperately hopeful thought passed through her mind: was he about to kiss her? They were standing so close that she could feel his warm breath on the tip of her nose.

She was so nervous that she had to fight to keep herself from shaking. "I think you know more about me than anyone, even Faye." Her voice was soft and quiet. "It's rather funny because there is so much about you that I don't know."

For a moment, Tom didn't say anything. She felt him press her even closer to him: so close that her chest brushed against his. He lowered his head just a bit and said in a voice that was barely louder than a whisper, "Well, would you like to?"

It was enough to send a delightful shiver down her spine. The way he was speaking to her was entirely different from the polite, somewhat stoic, Tom that she had grown so accustomed to. This was the tender, open version that she had been aching to see for so very long. It was in that moment that she knew, indubitably, that there was much more than friendship between them and she was filled with an incomprehensible amount of both relief and euphoria. It took every ounce of remaining self-control not to throw herself at him. "Yes, I would," she replied softly.

"Then I'd like to show you something, if you'd allow me, Miss Horton," he said, stepping away from her slightly.

"Okay." She smiled at him. "Do your worst, Mr. Riddle."

He gave her a little smirk that made her heart quiver and took her hand, leading her away from the dance floor. Faye tried to catch her eye and wave, but Rose ignored her. She didn't want to allow any toxic thoughts to taint this moment with Tom. They reached the entrance to the Great Hall when he paused and turned to face her once more. "On second thought, it may take a while. We could wait and go after the ball is finished if you'd like to stay…"

"Certainly not! I'm much too curious now," she told him.

"Alright." He gave her a satisfied smile. "Well you'll have to close your eyes."

She did as he said and he took her hand once more, leading her away from the dance. The music slowly faded away as they continued walking. "There are some stairs," he said hesitantly.

"I can't just open my eyes to walk up the stairs?"

"No," he said.

"Of course not, that would be much too easy."

"Take my other hand; I'll tell you when to step." She could tell that he was smiling through the sound of his voice. "Alright, step up." She followed his voice and put her right foot on the first step. "Again," he said, as she brought her left foot onto the staircase.

Slowly, they made their way up the staircase. Rose had originally been counting the number of stairs, but lost count somewhere along the way. Oh, how odd they must have looked, with her eyes closed and Tom walking backwards up the stairs to guide her. But she didn't care. The vast majority of the school was in the Great Hall anyway. "Almost there," he said, his cool hands tugging gently on hers.

Rose tripped over the next stair and fell toward him, but he caught her easily with his strong arms. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes." She laughed at herself for a moment and she heard him let out a faint chuckle.

"Did you look?"

"No," she answered honestly. It was true; her eyes had remained closed even when she was falling. She had trusted him entirely to catch her.

"Good."

They reached the top of staircase and continued walking. Rose was just happy that this new surface was flat. After a couple of minutes passed, Tom stopped and turned her slightly. "Now sit down, there's a bench right behind you."

She followed his command and he let go of her hands. "You'll only have to wait here for a moment. Do you promise you'll keep your eyes closed?" he asked.

Rose nodded. She was aching with curiosity to see what he wanted to show her.

"I'll be right back," he told her.

* * *

"_I'm sorry to interrupt; it's just, I'm constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you. I don't know if you feel the same as I do, but we could be together if you wanted to." _– _Alex Turner_

* * *

**There's a bit of a cliff-hanger this time! Where do you think Tom brought Rose? I'm curious what your guesses might be, feel free to speculate and send a review my way(:**

**You'll find out the answer this Sunday with Chapter 10, titled **_**Letting Go**_**. Thank you for reading!**


	10. Part I - Letting Go

**I hope you all had a fantastic weekend! Thanks to those who reviewed/submitted some guesses as to where Tom took Rose: NoneOfYourBusiness101, Jofrench22, Mrs. TomMarvoloRiddle, and TheAlleyKat. One of you guessed right!**

* * *

Letting Go

_February 12, 1944_

"_Open_," he said in Parseltongue. The sink expanded and revealed the hole that led to the Chamber of Secrets. "_Lumos_" He lit the tip of his wand and jumped into the hole. It was only a short drop, but looked much steeper when it was covered in darkness. He quickly made his way into the Chamber and as he traveled deeper, he saw the Basilisk slither through one of the pipes.

"_Hide away,_" Tom said, again in Parseltongue, as he heard the sound of the giant snake's movement grow fainter and fainter. Of course, he couldn't simply bring Rosemary into the Chamber without banishing the potentially dangerous creature.

He returned to the surface and met her in the hall once more. Tom was pleased to see that she still had her eyes closed. "Tom, is that you?" she asked, as he walked closer to her.

"Yes, I'm here. Follow me," he said, reaching down to take her warm hand.

He led her into the girls' bathroom and brought her to the edge of the hole. It was then that he realized she was still wearing her gown from the ball, and this presented a bit of a problem. The Chamber had quite a few puddles, in addition to piles of bones that were left over from the various creatures the Basilisk consumed. She probably wouldn't want to walk through all of that. He cursed himself for not thinking all of this through a bit more. He had just gotten so caught up in the moment and was thoroughly enjoying this. There was something quite intimate about leading her around the castle with her eyes closed, after all.

Finally, he said "There's a bit of a drop here, and some water. I don't want you to ruin your dress…I could carry you if that's okay."

"Sure." An amused look passed over her face and she smirked. "Where on earth are you taking me, Tom Riddle?"

"You'll see." He scooped her light body off the ground and jumped into the hole. They made their way through the pipes and he was careful not to catch her dress on anything. Finally, he reached the true Chamber with its vast columns and Salazar Slytherin's statue.

He set her feet down and positioned her so that she would have the perfect view when she opened her eyes. Tom stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders and bent his head down to her ear. "Open your eyes," he whispered.

"Oh, Tom!" She looked all around and turned to face him momentarily. "It's magnificent. What is this place?"

"The Chamber of Secrets," he told her nonchalantly.

A look of worry flooded her eyes. "Isn't this dangerous to be here? Last year-"

"You are completely safe," he interrupted and told her. "Hagrid and his acromantula are gone now."

When he heard his own words, he was hit by an extremely jarring feeling. His mind was flooded with memories of the previous year, when the Chamber of Secrets was last opened. He could remember finding the Chamber, opening it, and discovering the Basilisk. He knew from his extensive reading about the Chamber that the Basilisk was deadly, but also knew that it had to be released from the Chamber by an heir of Slytherin to travel throughout the school.

Tom was sure that he hadn't released it, but it was in that moment that he realized that there was an odd gap of time between his discovery of the Chamber and Myrtle's death. Shortly after which he had caught Hagrid with the acromantula. He was curious why he couldn't remember anything between these two events, but could remember everything after. Tom could recall hearing the news of Myrtle and not feeling particularly sad. She was a Muggle-born and quite annoying, after all. It was better her than the students whose magical powers ran in their bloodline. He could also remember turning in Hagrid to Headmaster Dippet and the look of suspicion from Professor Dumbledore.

But why was he suspicious? Tom had simply found the entrance to the Chamber, not that he would reveal this part of the story to his teachers, of course. He didn't want to shoulder any of the blame for the attack in the school. He couldn't exactly help the fact that Hagrid had stumbled upon it and had decided to raise a lethal pet in the Chamber. After Hagrid was caught, Tom had closed it so that other students wouldn't be able to enter. He had done the right thing, hadn't he?

This was the first time he had entered the Chamber since that night and his lack of memory was beginning to bother him. But he would ponder it later; for now, he was there with Rose and that was all that mattered.

"Won't we get in trouble for being down here?"

"Miss Horton, since when has the prospect of getting in trouble prevented you from doing anything?" He knew better than that and gave her a look that said so. As a prefect, she had a bit of a reputation of letting the students of her house wander in past curfew on a nightly basis. Not to mention the number of late-night parties she had attended in the Slytherin common room, which were rampant with underage drinking. It was quite different from the way that Tom approached his duties and he couldn't imagine ceding his power in the same way, but her carelessness mostly amused him. Even though it was a way that they were dissimilar, he rather liked it about her in a way. She had a wild side that he could never fully predict; it was quite exciting to him.

Rose tilted her head slightly, smiled, and said, "I suppose you're right. So how did Hagrid find this place?" She walked over to a nearby pillar and traced one of the carved snakes with her hand.

"Well…I opened the Chamber last year," he told her, hoping that she would trust his version of events entirely because of how close they had gotten. "The attacks really had nothing to do with it, but Professor Dumbledore was convinced that the two events were connected somehow. It was just coincidence that Hagrid had found the Chamber after I had opened it and was using it to keep his little pet around the same time. I sealed it again after he was expelled so that no one else could find it." To his mind, the story was true, but he had a dark feeling that there was a huge piece missing. Yet he simply couldn't place it.

"How could he be so careless? They shouldn't have let him stay on the grounds, in my opinion." She shook her head and returned to him. "Anyway, if Hagrid just found it by accident, how did you find it?"

"Do you know who built the Chamber of Secrets?" he asked her.

"All I know about it are the rumors from last year. Wasn't it built by Salazar Slytherin?"

"Yes, it was. Only the heir of Slytherin can open it."

Rose understood immediately. She looked at him in disbelief and surprise. "Tom, that's _amazing_. You! The heir of Slytherin!" After a moments pause to let the words sink in, she added, "Actually, it rather makes sense; you're essentially the golden boy of Slytherin."

"You mean Hogwarts," he said with a smirk, though when he realized that his blatant arrogance had escaped from his lips, he was immediately mortified.

It amazed him that she didn't seem put off at all. In fact, she began to lightly trace the back of his hand with her fingers and matched his smirk. "Yes, Tom, you're also the golden boy of Hogwarts. In addition to being the most modest, of course."

He felt his face grow slightly warm at her teasing, but he was relieved she hadn't taken offense at his arrogance. "Let's sit down," he said, doing his best to change the subject. She eyed the ground warily and he remembered that it was rather dirty. "Here," he said, removing his suit jacket and setting it on the ground for her to sit on.

"You're always such a gentleman, Tom," she said as she sat down on his coat.

Tom sat down next to her. "Not always," he said with another smirk. He was primarily referring to the extremely explicit thoughts that constantly plagued his mind when he was near her.

"Oh do tell!"

He wished he could tell her all of his filthiest thoughts of her, or better yet, act them all out. "You know I won't. You'll just have to speculate," he teased.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes in an overly theatrical way, as though she were pretending to be annoyed at his refusal to tell her. After a moment, she dropped her act as they both laughed together.

"Thank you for showing me this place," she said. "It's all rather surreal."

"I'm happy to have the chance to show you."

She blushed. He was so close to having her, after months of biding his time. It was becoming easier and easier to engage her flirtatiously and now he was certain of his feelings and hers, but he still held himself back from kissing her. Something told him that when he did, he could never see the world the same again. It would be "Tom and Rose" instead of just "Tom". He knew that each decision he made would have to consider her point of view entirely, and this process was not something that he was used to in the slightest. Before her, he hadn't even had a true friend to speak of. Being entirely alone had its own advantages; it allowed him to think of only his own interests. For a brief, terrifying moment, he wondered if he could put his selfishness aside to make room for her. As someone who had focused so completely on themselves, how would he have the first clue of a way to make her happy?

"Earlier, when I said I wanted to know more of you?" Rose started. "Well, truthfully I'd like to know _everything_ there is to know about you. You're rather fascinating."

Her words seemed to shoot adrenaline through his body. His heart beat hard against his chest and he felt weak, but he managed to say, "I feel exactly the same for you, Rose."

She stopped and turned to look at him with a look of surprise and happiness. "That's the first time you've used my first name." Her voice turned teasing once more. "Does that mean we're finally friends?"

As he met her gaze, he knew that regardless of his fears, he would try everything in his power to ensure her happiness. He allowed every ounce of fear and pressure to leak and dissolve from his soul; he resolved to be brave for her. It was in this moment, looking into her deep blue eyes, that he irreparably let himself go.

* * *

"No, Rose, we're not friends." He said it slowly with his trademark smirk, the one that still made her stomach flutter mercilessly.

The room was spinning suddenly and time seemed to stand still. Thousands of memories patched themselves together in her mind as she recalled everything that had brought them to this moment. He shifted his body so that he was turned toward her slightly and reached up to lightly stroke her cheek. "Will you close your eyes for me again?" he asked softly.

She did so without a word. A fraction of a second passed before she suddenly felt his lips pressing against hers. Energy traveled through her body and she felt as though she was being lit up from within. The kiss was short and he pulled away so she opened her eyes again; she was rather surprised to see how nervously he was looking at her. Rose had never seen his confidence falter. Perhaps he was simply gauging her reaction.

Well, she would certainly give him a reaction if that's what he desired. She leaned toward him and kissed him harder as her hands buried themselves in his thick dark hair. He reciprocated with equal gusto and she fell onto her back while he leaned over her. Unfortunately, the Chamber of Secrets' floor was extremely hard and cold, which made for a bit of an uncomfortable snogging surface.

"The ball will probably go on another hour or so…we could go back to your dormitory," she suggested, hoping she didn't sound too forward. Hers wasn't exactly an option as there were several spells in the way of boys entering the girls' dormitories.

He nodded and helped her to her feet. He carried her out of the Chamber with her eyes closed, as per his request. She couldn't tell if he wanted to keep the location of its entrance a secret because he didn't trust her or if he just wanted to be one of the few people that knew where it was. Rose assumed it was the latter and while she was curious, she would respect his wishes.

Well, she certainly knew something about him now. Her head was still spinning, trying to process everything that had happened just a few minutes ago. He was the heir of Slytherin _and_ had just taken her to the breathtakingly marvelous Chamber of Secrets for Gods sakes. And then of course, there was the kiss. She nearly shuddered in pleasure just at the thought of it.

She expected him to set her down when they left the Chamber of Secrets, but he ended up carrying her all the way to the dungeons and he set her down on what she assumed was his bed. Finally, he told her she could open her eyes again.

It occurred to her that it felt strange to be in his dormitory, sitting on his bed instead of Avery's. Tom distracted her from her thoughts as he kissed her again. She let herself fall back onto his pillow and pulled his tie so that he followed and suspended himself above her. Rose pulled down his face to meet hers and was struck by how absolutely perfect it felt to have his lips against hers. There was simply an undeniable spark with him that she had never felt kissing anyone else.

She untied his tie and took it from around his neck before tossing it aside. Then she began to unbutton his shirt kissing him more passionately with each button that was undone. He took the hint, removing it quickly and throwing it near his discarded tie. Rose looked down just to marvel at him for a moment at his ridiculously attractive body. He was slender, but not without plenty of muscle; she could feel his strength as she ran over his chest and arms with her hands.

Tom kissed her even more passionately as she touched him and pulled her so that she was sitting up once more. His lips didn't leave hers as his hands traced down her back to find the zipper for her dress. He unzipped it and she broke contact for a moment so that she could stand and allow the long dress to fall to the floor.

For a moment, he sat there just looking at her as she stood before him and she loved every minute of it. His eyes ran across her chest and traveled down the rest of her body, covered by only a black lacy bra and panties and thigh-high stockings. He gave her a devilish smirk. "You see, I'm not always a gentleman. And I'm getting the feeling that you aren't always such a lady." There was something in his voice, something sexy and dangerous, that drove her wild.

She bit her lip seductively and leaned down to give him a plentiful view of her cleavage. "Would you like to find out?"

"Yes, I think I would."

He ran his fingers up the sides of her legs and pulled her on top of him this time. "Would you say my name again?" she asked him, pushing a piece of hair back from his handsome face. "I like it when you do."

"Rose," he spoke softly, looking straight into her eyes. Her face was so close to his that she could feel the breath leave his lips as he said it.

Their lips met and she bit his bottom lip lightly. She could tell by the way his fingers gripped her thighs harder that he liked it. The bite had made his lips part slightly and she slithered her tongue inside his mouth. His tongue was eagerly awaiting and she relished the taste of him. By now, her knickers were beginning to grow quite damp with excitement.

She allowed herself to get even closer to him, pressing her chest, legs, and hips into his. When she did this, she realized that he was fully erect and it pressed against her as she let out a gasp of pleasant surprise. Even through his pants, she could tell that he was delightfully well-endowed. Rose wanted to taste every part of him, savoring each centimeter of his manly frame.

Tom turned them both over so she was on her back once more. His lips trailed down her neck and she let out a small moan of pleasure. She found herself wondering if this was the first time he had snogged a girl; if so, he was quite a natural. When he reached the base of her neck, he removed his lips from her skin and looked at her with his dark brown eyes. She still could barely believe that any of this was happening. They had both waited so long for each other, but this was most certainly worth the wait.

"You are very beautiful and I've waited quite some time to tell you that." The teasing tone of a few minutes before had ebbed from his voice and he was looking at her exactly the way she had wanted him to for months. Finally, she felt that he had completely opened up to her. She smiled and they kissed again.

A few minutes later, the door opened and Avery and Lestrange walked in, to Rose's horror. "_Out_," Tom spun around and said sharply; she had never seen him sound quite so agitated. Markus had caught her eye before they walked out and gave her a small wink; she was rather relieved that he wasn't offended at the fact that she was snogging one of his close friends in his own dormitory. Not that she had any reason to feel guilty; he was the one that had cheated on her, after all. Still, it was reassuring to think that things at least wouldn't be too awkward between them. It also served as another testament to the belief that their break-up had been in both of their best interests. Clearly, neither of them had remaining feelings for the other, and that was fine as far as she was concerned. She hadn't spoken with him since the Christmas party that her parents had dragged her to, and even there they only made polite small talk.

She was also rather impressed of how quickly they listened to Tom and had left. He obviously had their respect, as did the rest of Hogwarts. Rose realized that incredibly, she was now romantically involved with the most respected and longed for boy at Hogwarts. It felt strange to see their blossoming relationship as an accomplishment, but she couldn't banish the feeling of pride she got now that they belonged to each other. He was everything she had ever wanted and so very much more.

From outside the door to his dormitory, she could hear Faye proclaim: "I knew it! I knew it all along!"

Rose and Tom exchanged an annoyed glance and kissed once more, but now that everyone knew what they were up to, it felt too awkward to continue anything further. "I should go," she told him.

"I suppose," he sighed, cupping her cheek in his hand. "Promise me I'll see you tomorrow."

"I promise."

* * *

"_He knew that when he kissed this girl and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never again romp like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning-fork that had struck upon a star. Then he kissed her." - F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

**Aww, so many feels! I know the part where Tom realized his memory was incomplete was probably a little confusing, but I'll go into that more with the next chapter. Also, we finally got a little zesty taste (hahah, lemons, get it?...sorry...) of some action between them! I'm just going to warn you all right now that there **_**will **_**be some sexual situations between them in many of the upcoming chapters and I'm probably not going to post a 'warning' on the top of every chapter this occurs in.**

**On a totally unrelated note, I've plotted out what I'd like to do for the rest of the story. It's looking like there will be 200 chapters in total (40 chapters each for Part I - Part V)! This will probably equate to 700,000 words, which is definitely the longest thing I have ever written. I'm so excited to keep working on it!**

**Thanks again to those who have followed, favorited, and reviewed! Much love to you all.**


	11. Part I - Going Steady

**Hey everyone! Please read the A/N at the bottom! And thank you to NoneOfYourBusiness101 and riboflavinB2 for their lovely reviews.(:**

**P.S. to riboflavinB2 - I'm a nutrition major and I think your username rocks haha!**

* * *

Going Steady

_February 13, 1944_

It was late; far past midnight by now. The water from the Black Lake swirled against the window of the Slytherin dormitory, just as it did in the common room. It was relaxing, and Tom quite enjoyed lying awake at night listening to it. Besides, ever since Rosemary had left his dormitory, he hadn't been able to drift off to sleep for even a single moment. He lay awake, recalling the feeling of her warm, smooth skin beneath his fingertips. She tasted just as delicious as he had imagined she would. He basked in the feeling of his lips against hers, soft and bright pink. And then there was seeing the rest of her, only the most private areas covered by her attractive undergarments. His eyes had traced her hourglass figure: her breasts looked even fuller without the interference of clothes to cover them and her svelte waist gave way to the smooth curve of her hips. He remembered reaching around and running his hands over her round, shapely buttocks. She was the type of woman that simply oozed sexuality, whether she was trying to or not. It drove him crazy; he had wanted to touch her all over and explore all of these places that he had only dreamt of.

Of course, he was deprived of taking things further thanks to his idiotic roommates. But as much as he wanted her and was annoyed at the interruption, Tom knew that it was probably best not to rush into things. He wanted to savor her and it would be quite foolish to spoil things by pushing them too far too soon. Not to mention the fact that he was rather nervous to explore all of these physical perks with her, given his own inexperience. Regardless, she was what he had striven for and he finally had her; at the moment, nothing else could make him happier, even if a certain body part of his was telling him otherwise.

Finally, he fell into a deep sleep. As he began dreaming, his attention shifted away from her. Scenes quickly flashed through his mind, as though he was racing through a slideshow: first he was back in the Chamber of Secrets, but this time, he_ had_ released the Basilisk from its dwelling place beneath the school. He watched as it slithered through the pipes, obeying his commands to target the Muggle-born students. Then there was another jump in time; now, he was seeing a body being carried from the castle. He knew instantly that it was Myrtle's. He briefly spoke to Professor Dumbledore, who told Tom that the school would be closed if the attacks didn't stop. Another time lapse occurred and he was cornering Hagrid, telling him that he was forced to turn him in.

He jolted awake, as though shocked with a lightning bolt. He was sweating profusely and panting, and he turned over in bed. He realized he was alone in the dormitory and when he glanced at the large clock in the corner of the room, he saw that it was already noon. He felt disoriented; had he really been asleep that long? The dream had felt so short. Tom rubbed his eyes and picked up his wand, pointing it at the glass on his nightstand. "_Aguamenti,_" he spoke, his voice shaking slightly. The glass filled with water and he drank all of it, feeling its chill hit his stomach.

Tom should have been a bit more panicked; in a half hour, he was supposed to meet Rosemary in their usual study room at the library. But the dream had his mind's full attention at the moment. It seemed so real, but surely that wasn't what happened…

Was this supposed to fill the gap of time he couldn't remember when he took Rose to the Chamber of Secrets? If its contents were true, that would mean that he alone was responsible for the attacks on Muggle-born students and had merely framed. He suddenly felt nauseous and ran to the lavatory attached to their room, retching. He washed his mouth out in the nearby sink and looked up at his pale, sweaty reflection in the mirror. Could it really be true? Of course not, he tried to tell himself as he leaned down and splashed cold water on his face.

_You know it is._

Yes, he knew. There was an unmistakable feeling in his stomach that told him the truth. Why or how had he forgotten, though? It was odd, but the fact that his own memories had failed him so profoundly bothered him, even more than the fact that he had essentially killed a fellow student. He knew he should feel extremely guilty and that it was wrong, but he couldn't force himself to feel any semblance of remorse. She was a mud-blood, after all.

Tom was still in a daze when he took a shower, gathered his classwork, and headed down to the Great Hall to pick up a bit of lunch to bring with him to the library. He wasn't hungry and questioned if he could even keep anything down, but knew that eating was probably the right thing to do at some point. The clock in the Great Hall told him that he was fifteen minutes late to meet Rosemary, but his body felt sluggish, as though he couldn't force himself to move faster even if he tried. His mind was still replaying the dream, and with each second that passed, it became clearer and clearer that it was indeed the reality of the previous year's events.

"So you and Horton really hit it off last night…" Tom's eyes came into focus and saw Olive Hornby sit down next to him at the Slytherin table. "_Everyone's _talking about it." She batted her eyelashes at him and a smirk danced across her face.

Tom loathed her as he loathed so many of the vapid Hogwarts girls. Hornby was a perfect example of why he had never been interested in wasting his time dating before he got to know Rose. Unfortunately, Hornby had been showing considerable interest in him lately, dropping overly flirtatious hints and throwing herself at him whenever given a chance. Why? He hadn't a clue.

"If you don't mind me saying so, you could probably do a lot better." She continued, putting her hand on his knee and leaning forward, her platinum blonde hair falling toward him.

Normally, he would have forced himself to politely remove himself from the situation. But his mind was much too preoccupied with other, much more important, matters to deal with her. He grabbed her wrist hard and ripped her hand away from him. "Actually, I _do _mind. That's absolutely none of your business," he hissed with a menacing glare.

"Ouch!" She said, pulling her wrist from his grip and rubbing it before giving him a dirty look. "No need to be an asshole about it."

"No need to be a whore," he said snidely. He stood and left her sitting at the table with a shocked look on her face.

He hadn't meant to lose his temper and snap, but what in the hell was she thinking? He didn't feel guilty for what he said, but worried that it may come back to him in other consequences, such as costing him his polite reputation. But these thoughts didn't stay in his mind long, as he was quickly absorbed in his newly regained memories once more.

"Good morning!" Rose beamed at him when he finally walked into the library, utter delight swimming in her eyes. He had longed for this sort of outward display of emotion from her for quite some time, but was too caught up in himself to fully enjoy it. Her expression faltered and she asked, "Tom, is everything alright?"

He desperately wanted to tell her of his revelation, but knew he could not. How would she possibly understand, even if she was as blood elitist as he was? Tom wasn't deluded enough to think that she wouldn't be terrified of the fact that he had essentially murdered someone in Ravenclaw, her own house. "I'm fine," he said, forcing a half-smile.

"You don't seem like it," she said. "Was it last night? Do you regret-"

Thankfully, her words snapped him out of his haze and he was able to turn his attention to her, at least momentarily. "No," he interrupted. He didn't want her to think that he regretted anything about the previous night for even a second. "No, not at all."

For a moment, he wondered if he should feel guilty for leaving out his encounter with Olive in the Great Hall, but he didn't find it necessary to bring up to her. Tom moved to sit close to her and ran one of his hands down her silky, bright red hair. He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. How wonderful it was to kiss her whenever he pleased! She kissed him back, bringing one of her warm hands to his cheek as a pleasurable sensation traveled down his spine. He had found quickly that he loved the feeling of her hands on him. Whenever she touched him, he felt so many things that he never had before. It was overwhelming and Tom was thankful of the fact that he could lose himself in her, even when his mind was filled with such disconcerting thoughts. This, he was sure, would become his new addiction.

She pulled away and looked at him with her big, blue eyes. "So…does this mean we're, you know…"

He raised an eyebrow and gave her a confused look.

She sighed and continued. "You know…are we going steady?"

He smirked as he finally understood what she was asking. He wondered why she thought it necessary to even ask. "Well, yes Rosemary, I should think so."

"Good," she smiled back.

* * *

She was now dating Tom Riddle: it had yet to sink in to some degree, and she suspected that it may take a while. A huge sense of relief washed over her at his words, but she still worried about him. It wasn't like him to show up twenty minutes late for anything and then fail to apologize for doing so. While she waited for him, she had grown increasingly anxious, worried that he might not show up at all. It was a somewhat irrational fear, but she couldn't help it- the night before had been everything she wanted, but what if she had pushed the boundaries too far by essentially inviting herself back to his dormitory? Or, perhaps he would shy away from her, embarrassed after Adam and Markus had walked in on them.

It was a great relief that neither of these possibilities was correct, but it bothered her to see him this way, lacking his usual amount of attention and composure. It wasn't even that he seemed upset necessarily; rather, he was acting distant and distracted. For a brief moment, she wondered if it was possible that they would ever get to the point where they didn't have any secrets from each other. He certainly wasn't the type to reveal very personal things about himself, with the exception of the night before of course. The main reason she was so shocked to learn that he was the heir of Slytherin was simply that he had never divulged anything like that to her before. She told herself to be patient; he would probably open up eventually. They had only been officially dating for about five minutes, after all.

Thankfully, Tom seemed to return to normal as he took out his books and parchment and began working on homework. Rose resumed hers as well and they worked together in silence for a good while. They were sitting much closer on the couch than they had before and it relaxed her quite a bit. In fact, Rose was amazed at how relaxed she was with him now that there were no questions left regarding their feelings toward each other.

Usually it was she who interrupted their study sessions with her ramblings or complaints of her own unproductivity, but this time it was Tom who created the disruption. He put down his book, turned toward her slightly, and tilted her chin up with his fingers slightly to bring her lips to his. It astounded her that every time she kissed him, it felt just as mind-blowing as the first time. Tom kissed her lightly and pulled away, looking at her with his dark eyes.

They just sat there for a bit as he stared at her as though it would be the last time he would see her face and was trying to study every detail. It made her rather nervous and she let out a small laugh. "You know, studying is much more enjoyable now."

He smirked back at her. "It is."

It was clear that neither of them knew what to say; now that their relationship had officially begun, there was sure to be the adjusting phase where they had to discover a somewhat new dynamic. In an effort to disrupt the silence that had fallen over them, Rose said, "Thank you again for last night. It was by far the most spectacular first date I've ever been on."

"I thought you might enjoy it."

"It's going to be kind of hard to beat really…I'm not sure if there are any amazing places in Hogwarts that I can show you, that you won't already know about," she told him.

"That's really not necessa-" he began to say, but she interrupted him.

"Wait, there _is _a place I can show you! Would you like to take a break from studying and head outdoors?" she asked him.

He gave her a quizzical look, but said, "Sure."

They put on their coats, leaving their books and notes in their study room in the library and telling the librarian that they would be back in a little while. They reached the front entrance of the school and stepped outside. It was a very early spring; though it was mid-February, the snow was already beginning to melt.

She led the way, taking them across the front lawn toward the Quidditch pitch. They reached the end of the sport arena and she glanced around, making sure that no one was watching. "Let's run, before anyone sees us!" She smiled at him excitedly.

"What?" he asked, but she was already running into the Forbidden Forest.

He caught up with her easily with his much longer legs. "You've been to the Dark Forest before?"

They slowed down and started walking again after the castle was out of sight. "A few times. My grandfather brought me here once when I was a little girl. He knew Headmaster Dippet quite well and would bring me to Hogwarts when they visited sometimes," she explained. "Have you been in the Forest before?"

"A few times." He smirked at the surprised look she shot him. He was such a straight arrow: the golden boy that had never broken a rule. But she was quickly finding out that he had an adventurous side that she never could have imagined. It both excited and intrigued her, and it made her fall for him even more.

She interlaced her fingers with his, pulling him along as they approached her spot in the Forest; the sound of rushing water indicated that they were quite close. They had been walking along a small stream to the point when it finally opened up and poured over a rather steep drop of rocks, creating a beautiful cascade. Rose led him around the side of the cliff, where they could safely climb down and observe the waterfall from the bottom. At its base, there was a perfectly clear oval shaped pool that the water collected in before continuing to trickle out into another stream. Around the pool, dozens of flowering plants surrounded them, already showing some blossoms because of the surprisingly mild winter. "I hope you haven't found this place already." She glanced up at him.

"No, I haven't," he told her. They stood, taking in the beauty of it all.

Well, Rose was taking in the beauty of it at least. She wasn't sure if Tom was actually enjoying it at all or just being polite. Perhaps he thought coming out here was an entire waste of time. The thought made her nervous and she began to ramble: "My grandfather would always tell me these stories about this place. He said that Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw used to meet here while they were building the school. They were supposedly in love, but kept it a secret because they didn't want the other founders to think they were unfairly benefiting each other's houses, or something like that. I'm not sure if any of it is even true; he was kind of a loony. My mother hasn't spoken to him in years because after my grandmother passed away, he ended up getting remarried to a half-blood. He only wrote one letter to my mother after his wedding and she never even opened it. I saved it when she threw it away; he was basically pleading with her to forgive him..." It was then that she finally realized that she was indeed babbling. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I'm not trying to be a bore."

"You aren't," he said. "It sounds like you miss him."

"I do," she admitted. "I'd like to see him again someday."

"Even though he remarried a half-blood?"

It certainly seemed to answer any questions she had regarding his opinions on blood status. "Yes," she said, hoping that he wouldn't judge her for it.

"Well, I hope you can see him again." There was something about the way he spoke that was wholeheartedly sincere and it comforted her greatly. She smiled up at him as he changed the subject: "I wonder if it's true, about Salazar and Rowena."

"It could be true. I don't think it's out of the question," she said. "I have to admit, I wish I was the heir of Ravenclaw right now. It would be _so_ much more romantic that way."

He didn't say anything, but looked at her for a moment as though he were studying her. Then her heart fluttered incessantly as he pushed her back up against a smooth rock and pressed himself close to her. She reached up and put her lips on his and he responded by resting his hands on her waist, pressing against her even harder. There was so much charge between them, so much uncontrollable sexual tension that was throbbing to get out. She wondered how long it would be until they went all the way.

Things quickly became more heated, both literally and figuratively. She broke away from his mouth and slid off her coat, tossing it to a nearby rock that looked dry. He pushed her back into place against the rock and kissed her even more passionately, as though he was trying to make up for the two seconds that their lips had been apart. Tom's hands were buried in her hair and hers were thrown around his neck pulling him close. She felt his excitement through his pants just as she had the night before and it drove her wild.

Rose broke away from his lips and began kissing along his jawbone and then down the side of his neck. He let out a small grunt in pleasure, which he then proceeded to try and cover up by pulling away and coughing a bit. She wasn't fooled, and was delighted that she was doing something that he liked. Rose pulled him back against her again and continued kissing his neck, adding in a few small bites. He exhaled sharply and she reveled in the satisfaction of driving him mad in this way.

Then she took it a step further, unbuttoning the top half of her blouse and bringing his hands up to her chest. He grabbed her sizable breasts in his large hands and squeezed them gently. "Harder," she said, with a playful look in her eyes.

He obeyed her command and she let out a small moan. This must have sufficiently encouraged him, because he was suddenly reaching behind her in an effort to unclasp her bra. He grappled with the hook for a few seconds until she gave him an understanding look and removed it for him.

She smirked as Tom gazed at her bare breasts for a moment. It was clear now that it didn't matter how much of a reserved gentleman he came off as in public: seeing breasts simply has the same effect on nearly every seventeen year-old boy. Finally, he reached his hands up again to meet them, her nipples hard from the mid-February air. He traced them and began pinching them lightly. She moaned louder while kissing him pulling his hips toward her so that she could feel him through his pants.

Suddenly, they heard rustling in the bushes near them and they both whipped their heads in its direction. "Shit," she hissed, picking up her bra, racing to put it on and button up her shirt. Tom withdrew his wand and pointed it at the bushes, walking toward them with deliberation and fearlessness. She realized that she admired his bravery and how quickly he had acted. When he got close, two birds shot out and flew into the high trees above them. Rosemary was startled and swore again.

He turned back to her, lowering his wand and laughing softly. She was red in the face, embarrassed from swearing in front of him, but began laughing after a few seconds. "I'm sorry for the swears…It took me a bit by surprise," she said.

Tom walked over and fastened one of the buttons she had missed in her haste. "Don't apologize," he told her. "It's one of the things I fancy most about you."

She was both surprised and thankful at his response. "Well, that's quite convenient, because I really fancy swearing."

Both of them were a little flustered from the disruption. "We should get back," she managed.

He nodded and she took his hand, leading him out of the Forest. Every so often, she snuck a look out of the corner of her eye at his handsome face. It was the third or fourth time that she did this that she saw a look pass over him as though he were deep in thought. She wondered if he was thinking about whatever it was that had bothered him earlier and if it was still bothering him now. Why wouldn't he just talk to her about it? Rose couldn't decide if she was selfish for desiring his openness. Perhaps it was simply some sort of residual insecurities from her relationship with Avery that caused her to yearn for a lack of secrets with Tom. She had to remind herself again that they had been intimately involved for less than a day, for Gods sakes. Why was she expecting so much, so soon?

* * *

"_This thing about you that you think is your flaw - it's the reason I'm falling in love with you." – Colleen Hoover_

* * *

**Soo, two things! One is regarding Tom's character thus far. I _know_ he seems a bit soft, and lot less dark. I just wanted to touch base and fill you in a bit regarding my plan for him in this fic...I really wanted to use this chapter as a turning point for his character (with recovering his memory and the way he snapped at Hornby), which I'm going to be developing _much _more as the story progresses. Up until now, I've focused so much on the relationship between Rose and Tom because I want it to resemble a real-life relationship...Especially the beginning of one, when it is rather all-consuming, since neither of them have fallen in love before. After things settle down a bit and he gets used to having her around, he'll return to his usual pursuits (this will probably occur around Ch. 14 or so; hang in there, haha).**

**I don't want to reveal TOO much, but let's just say this fluffy stuff won't last for long...Though I am kind of pacing out the story so his darkness uncovers itself very gradually instead of all at once. Near the end of Part I is where it will really develop and begin to take hold, and you'll see more of the Tom you expect. ****His hunger for power and knowledge as well as his possessiveness are definitely key components to his personality and I'm totally going to expand on them!**

**Second thing! I should be able to stay on the schedule of two updates a week, but finals are quickly approaching and right after school gets out, I'm moving across the country. It's very exciting, but there will be a lot going on. I'm planning on writing some chapters in advance so I can just do quick edits before putting them out. As it gets closer, I'll let you know if I can't stick to my schedule.**

**Thank you for listening to my ramblings! And, most of all, thanks for your readership!**


	12. Part I - Falling Out

**Thanks to NoneOfYourBusiness101 for your review, as well as to those who have favorited/followed! Your continued support is greatly appreciated. Read on!(:**

* * *

Falling Out

_February 14, 1944_

It had been rather disconcerting to awaken in their favorite study room in the Hogwarts library instead of his dormitory. He had forgotten that a few hours after returning from the Forbidden Forest, she had fallen asleep on his shoulder in the middle of reading her Arithmancy text. After nearly an hour of gazing at her as she slept, Tom had eventually fallen asleep with his arm curled around her small waist, ensuring that she wouldn't fall off the couch in the middle of the night. He was not at all surprised that the librarian, Madam Belmont, hadn't forced them to return to their dormitories after curfew; there were perks to being the brightest students at the school. One of them was that much of the staff simply left them alone.

He watched her for a long time; the last thing he wished was to wake her. She looked delicate as she slept, her long eyelashes almost brushing the tops of her cheeks. Her mouth hung open slightly in an adorable way and her chest rose and fell with deep, relaxed breaths. Tom wanted to lay there all morning, with her head resting in the crook of his arm as she had for the entire night. He hadn't even cared when it had fallen asleep, becoming tingly and finally numb. As he looked down at her restful face, he wondered if there was anything about her that wasn't absolutely perfect. People as a whole had disappointed him his entire life; part of him thought that perhaps it was just a matter of time until she did the same. But when these sorts of thoughts crossed his mind, he could dismiss them as ridiculous almost immediately. What about this gorgeous, wonderful girl could possibly bother him?

Tom's mind floated back to thoughts of his revelation about the Chamber of Secrets. It was curious how quickly it had settled into his mind as fact and that he could recall all of his memories as though he had never lost them in the first place. He knew that he should feel extreme guilt for what had happened, but if he felt anything, it was some sort of twisted disappointment that the Basilisk hadn't picked off more of the muggle-born in the student body.

A clock chimed in the corner of the room and interrupted his thoughts. Sadly, it was Monday; she would need to be off to Herbology soon, and he to Ancient Runes. He lightly brushed her bangs out of her face and kissed her forehead. She groaned and turned toward him, opening an eye. "Why is it so goddamned bright in here?" she grumbled. She looked grouchy, annoyed that he had woken her from her slumber.

It amused him completely. He smirked and kissed her again, and this time her expression softened and she kissed him back. Their lips parted and she wiped her eyes, looking around the room.

"Why are we in the library?" she asked, looking at him quizzically. "And why are there at least ten bouquets of flowers in here?"

"You fell asleep last night while we were studying," he informed her. "And those are for you. Happy Valentine's Day." He had been sure to wake up earlier than her so that he had time to conjure them.

"Oh, Tom! How sweet!" Rose beamed, suddenly wide awake. She kissed him again, and then leapt from the couch to inspect them further. He sat up, watching her as she bent down slightly to smell them. It pleased him so deeply to see her happy.

"What are these? I've never even seen them before," she told him. "I love the pink and white…"

He was rather relieved that she liked them. He sort of randomly picked them out in a book about flowers he found earlier that morning at the library. Honestly, he hadn't a clue what type of flowers to get her, or if getting her flowers was even the right thing to do for Valentine's Day. It was something Tom had heard of, of course, but didn't know if Rose would expect him to do that sort of thing. Her reaction had at least validated that he hadn't messed it up somehow.

Tom stood and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. He bent his head down to kiss her neck and then told her, "They're lilies. I thought I might bring you roses, but none of them were as beautiful as _my_ Rose."

This sort of thing might have made him gag before, but with Rose, everything felt right. He had developed some integral desire to shower her with gooey, sappy affections. Perhaps it was just because he finally _could_, after waiting so long to have her. Finally, he could be his smooth and suave self around her and abandon his anxiety. Still there was a key difference between his charm with her and that which he showed to others: when he was with Rose, it was genuine and so very real. It took no effort at all and it made him inexplicably happy.

"You are absolutely the sweetest man I have ever met," she told him, spinning around in his arms and standing on her toes to kiss him again. She must have glanced at the clock behind him because she pulled away and exclaimed, "Shit! I have to get to class and so do you!"

"Yes, we should go," he said, though his insides felt like they were being deflated. He didn't want to go to class and be without her for even a minute.

She pulled away from him and started gathering her things quickly. "I have to go to my room and pick up my Herbology book."

"I'll walk you," he said. "It's on my way to Ancient Runes."

"Do you think I can bring a bouquet of these with me?" she asked him. "They are so pretty!"

"Absolutely," Tom told her.

She chose the bouquet sitting in a crystal vase by the window. Tom gathered his things and carried them for her as he escorted her back to the Ravenclaw Tower. Fortunately, it was close to the library. As they walked, she reached up and stroked one of the flower petals between her fingers. "I'm sad they won't last forever," she told him.

"Well, if they look like they are beginning to wilt, let me know and I'll conjure you some new ones," he told her.

She looked satisfied at his answer, tossing a quick smile over her shoulder as they approached the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room. Just as they reached it, Warren Cramer stepped out and grinned as soon as he saw Rose. Even though she was his now, Tom still didn't like the way Cramer looked at her and it made him instantly agitated. "Ready for Herbology, Horton?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," she sighed and then laughed quietly. "I'll be back in a second if you'd like to walk together."

"Of course!" Cramer beamed at her and then looked at him. "Tom," he said, outstretching his palm for a handshake. "Good to see you."

Rose took the flowers from his arms so his hand was free to shake Cramer's. He forced himself into the polite formality. If Warren hadn't shown so much of an interest in Rose, Tom actually might not have minded him. He _was_ a prefect, at least. But unfortunately that wasn't the case and a jealous spark had ignited inside of him that only seemed to worsen the more he tried to control it.

"You don't have to wait for me, Tom. I know you have to get to class," she said. "Warren will walk me."

It bothered him that she seemed so quick to dismiss him _and _that she was just fine walking with Cramer instead. He forced himself to trust that Rose hadn't actually meant anything by it, but there was a small voice in the back of his mind playing the game of _'what if?'_. Tom nodded and she pecked him on the cheek. "I'll see you in Potions."

She went into the common room and Tom hesitated for a moment, watching her go. He didn't want to leave her alone with Cramer, but he already told her that he would go. Besides, he _did_ have to get to class. He gave a slight nod to Warren and allowed a threatening look to flash through his eyes momentarily that said: _If you dare to make any sort of advance toward my girlfriend, there will be hell to pay. I can guarantee you that._ To his extreme displeasure, Cramer seemed positively oblivious to the look and offered a friendly wave as Tom strode away.

Tom rolled his eyes as soon as his back was to Cramer.

_What a complete dolt._

At least he could rest assured that Rosemary would never be attracted to such a half-wit. Unfortunately, by the time he arrived in Ancient Runes, Warren Cramer had yet to vanish from his mind. All he could think of now was Rose and Warren, laughing and joking their way to Herbology. It twisted his stomach in knots and he couldn't seem to sit still in his seat. He leaned forward to peer out the window, watching for them to cross the lawn.

Professor Viesey began to speak, interrupting his sad attempt at reconnaissance. "Good morning, class. Today you'll work on a decrypting exercise in pairs."

Tom was rather appalled at himself for his jealousy; Warren Cramer was no one to be envious of, after all. Especially compared to him. But it seemed as though anything or anyone that had to do with Rosemary Horton had gained potential to occupy his mind as of late. For a while, he had thought that perhaps, if she was his, she wouldn't dominate his mind so completely. Instead, he was filled with a whole new degree of fascination. Lately, he wanted to memorize how she liked to be kissed, every detail of the way she slept, and an entire host of other miniscule details about her. Thankfully though, he could approach at least these thoughts with some relaxation; the anxiety of winning her was behind him now. It was unfortunate that this uncomfortable jealousy seemed to be the trade-off.

"You and your partner are matched up by last name on the board. Get to it!"

Tom snapped out of his thoughts and scanned the list and spotted his name as a feeling of dread washed over him. Right next to "Riddle" read "Hornby", as in Olive Hornby: the same Olive Hornby that he had called a whore just a day earlier. He swallowed and turned around to see her still sitting at her desk, glaring at him intensely.

_Of course. Might have thought that one through a bit more…_

* * *

"So, you and Riddle are official then?" Warren asked her, sounding a bit amused.

"I'm not sure why everyone seems so surprised," Rose told him as they walked to Herbology. "I spent quite a bit of time with him before we started dating, you know."

"Well that's true I guess. I don't know it's just rather strange is all."

"Why is that?" she asked defensively.

Warren sighed and laughed quietly. "I don't know. Forget I said anything. I _am _happy for you."

"Thank you." She smiled in satisfaction and then nudged him with her elbow. "How about you and Springer? You looked to be getting on quite well at the Ball this weekend…" She wanted to get some information about his feelings so she could report back to Emily that night.

"Yeah, we had a good time."

Rosemary sensed hesitation in his voice, as if he were holding back from saying something he was thinking. She decided it best not to pursue it any further though, it wasn't really her place to delve into their relationship or lack thereof. In any case, they had finally made it to Herbology and took their seats just as Professor Beery began to greet the class.

Class dragged on; she glanced at her watch the entire time, ready to leave and go to Potions so she could see Tom again. It was so nice to look forward to seeing him without feeling anxious. She felt her heart flutter constantly, which picked up speed when she thought back to all of the wonderful memories they had made in just two days of being an official couple. Finally, she could allow herself to fall for him entirely. It felt so damn good.

Though she thought the end of the class period might never arrive, it did. Warren walked with her into the castle, where they parted ways so that she could go to the dungeons for Potions and he to the Ravenclaw Tower.

Tom was already there when she arrived, along with about half of their class. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Faye send her a little wave, but she didn't glance over and return it. She was still upset at her friend's apparent betrayal by acting friendly toward Rebecca.

As Rose took her seat next to him, she fought the urge to kiss him; it wouldn't be appropriate in the classroom. "Hi," she said with a smile.

"Hi," he smiled back at her.

"Happy Valentine's Day, class! It seems only fit that we brew Amortentia today." Professor Slughorn announced. "You'll find it on page three hundred and twenty two in your textbook."

They began in their usual pattern: Tom fetched the ingredients while Rosemary readied the cauldron. When he returned, she snuck him small smiles and he returned them; the simplicity and lightness of it all made her incredibly happy.

"Excellent work you two! I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." Professor Slughorn approached their steaming cauldron and looked at it with satisfaction. "Five points to each of your houses! You're free to go and enjoy your Valentine's Day." It was rather funny to hear Slughorn wish them a happy Valentine's Day; it wasn't as though he knew they were a couple.

"Thank you, Professor," Rose said.

Before they left the room, she took one last smell of their Amortentia. For her, it was a divine mix of the way the air smells after a good rain, Tom's aftershave, and scotch. She packed up her things and left the classroom with Tom following close behind her. As soon as they were out the door and rounded the corner in the hallway, she spun around and stood on her toes to press her lips against his. He met hers with zeal and held her face in his cool hands.

"I did _not_ enjoy depriving myself of that all class," she told him, breaking their kiss.

He smirked. "I'm sorry it's so difficult for you to resist me."

"You aren't sorry at all!"

"You're right."

Rose bit her lip seductively, walking backwards until she felt the wall behind her. She pulled on his tie as she walked and drew him near to her. "And am I supposed to believe that it's so easy for you to resist me?" They were so close together that she could feel his breath on her face.

"Can't you tell?" He said playfully, speaking quietly into her ear.

"You two! Just because it's Valentine's Day does not indicate you can just roam the halls snogging while you should be in class!"

The two of them whipped their heads in the direction of the voice and saw Professor Flannigan, the exceptionally strict woman that taught History of Magic, walking toward them. Tom backed away from Rose immediately, turning bright red and straightening his tie. It was the first time she had seen him genuinely flustered. She may have found it amusing if she wasn't feeling the exact same way herself.

When Professor Flannigan recognized them, an incredulous look spread across her face. "Mr. Riddle, Miss Horton? Are you on prefect duty right now?"

"No, Professor. We just got through with Potions; we finished early," Tom said quickly.

"Ah…well I'll let it slide this time because it's the two of you, but don't make a habit of it. It's really against school policy to be doing that sort of thing."

_What sort of thing? _Rose wondered. _Standing close together?_ She rolled her eyes mentally at the teacher's rather ridiculous allegiance to the rules. Rose didn't even know if something like this was included in the Hogwarts policies.

The couple nodded and she strode away. As soon as she was out of earshot, she turned to Tom and said, "That was uncomfortable."

He seemed to have regained his composure, but still looked rather shaken. "It was…" She started to laugh and after a bit of hesitation, she was pleased that he joined in. He laced his fingers between hers and said, "Come, I'll walk you to lunch."

During lunch and throughout the rest of the day, Rose experienced more jealous looks than ever before. Now, Tom was hers and no one else had even a shot at getting him. Her newfound popularity was both intimidating and flattering. Some of the younger girls in each of their houses had even come up to her and asked for all the details of how he asked her out over the weekend. This presented a bit of a problem; she couldn't exactly tell anyone that he had taken her to the Chamber of Secrets. Nor did she want to reveal the details of their snogging session in his dormitory. But admittedly, Rose rather liked the attention, so she offered an alternative story to entertain them, where Tom and Rose had allegedly kissed for the first time in the Slytherin Common Room while the ball was still going on.

The younger girls weren't the only ones fishing for details, though. When Rose returned to her dormitory for the day, Emily and Loretta were questioning her from the moment she stepped through the door. Both of them seemed quite happy for her; even Emily, which surprised her to some degree. After all, she had loathed Markus and Tom was one of his close friends. Rose asked her about this and she explained that Tom seemed much more polite: a stark contrast to Markus' rather crude nature.

"Just please promise us you won't abandon us like Faye," Loretta said in an annoyed voice. It wasn't only Rose that had been avoiding Faye; Loretta and Emily were a bit miffed at her too for consistently deserting them to spend time with Adam.

"I won't," she promised.

As if on cue, Faye arrived at the dormitory. Rose grew agitated almost immediately; the apparently budding friendship of Rebecca and Faye was a new wound that seemed to get worse and worse, especially because she constantly saw them together on their boyfriends' arms.

"We're heading to dinner, want to come Rose?" Loretta asked. Clearly, they weren't interested in putting in effort to spend time with Faye.

"I'm fine, you two go ahead," she said.

When they left the room, Faye turned to her and said, "How nice of them to invite me."

"They probably thought you were having dinner with Adam," she shrugged, trying to sound disinterested.

"Well, I probably will. But how rude of them, not even bothering to invite me when I'm right here!" Faye rolled her eyes, but then her expression changed and she began to beam at Rose. "Anyway, I haven't seen you all weekend and I have a guess why: his name starts with 'T' and-"

"Yes, I was with Tom," Rose cut her off.

"You're no fun. Did the monthly start today?"

"No."

"Okay…well let's have it, what are the details?! It's all anyone at Hogwarts is talking about. I'm so happy that I can finally gloat about being right about you two. I _knew_ you liked him all along. God knows why, but I'm happy if you're happy I suppose."

"Why do you need the details from me if it's all anyone is talking about?"

"You're my best friend. I want to hear it from you!"

Rose scoffed and said, "I'm not your best friend, Rebecca Orion is." It had come out before she could think about it and regretted it immediately. She realized how immature it sounded, but it was too late to take it back.

"You know that's not true. I'm only being friendly with her because she's always around when I'm with Adam. I want his friends to like me, you know!"

"Weren't you the one giving me shit for the same thing when Tom and I first started talking? Remember, you thought I wanted to impress Markus by acting nice to Tom? Weren't you the one that said it was ridiculous to try to do such a thing?"

"It's different-"

"No, it's not," Rose snapped, her temper flaring further at Faye's denial. "You are such a hypocrite and a terrible friend at that! How can you betray me like this? Orion was sleeping with my boyfriend and made it as obvious as possible every chance she got. We used to make fun of her and Hornby for falling all over every guy in Slytherin!"

Faye looked hurt for a moment, but it turned to anger almost instantly. "Oh, I'm the terrible friend? You're the one who lied to my face for months about how you felt about Tom! Besides, you didn't even care about Markus!"

"I can't believe you!" Rose's voice was rising and soon she was yelling at Faye. "Are you honestly saying what she did is okay?"

"Like you're the shining star of morality," Faye sneered. "Going for the ex's best friend; very classy Rose!

She stopped, feeling tears approach her eyes at Faye's words and forcing herself not to let them fall. Rose wasn't yelling anymore when she said, "You're such a selfish bitch."

"You can think that. I don't really care," Faye snapped and picked up her bag, storming out of the room. When she got to the door, she stopped and turned around to look at Rose one last time. "You know what else? I'm beginning to like Becca quite a bit!"

* * *

"_Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired." – Robert Frost_

* * *

**Oh, geez. Teenage girl drama...brings me back to the 'ol high school days.**

**In other news, I had this crazy dream that my mom was using my laptop and found my fic and read it...what the hell? I think this means I'm spending WAY too much time thinking about Tom and Rose. It probably doesn't help that I do nearly all of my writing between the hours of 11pm and 3am (hooray for college life...), right before I go to bed.**

**I think I'll sleep better at night if you shoot me a review...just saying.(; Hahah, I kid, but I **_**would**_** love to hear some more of your thoughts!**

_**Next Chapter: Slughorn has a surprise Slug Club guest and there will be some lemony action between Mr. Riddle and Miss Horton later in the chapter.**_


	13. Part I - Falling In

Falling In

_February 19, 1944_

"Do you think he's recovered from the initial shock?" she asked him as she reached over and straightened his tie.

"I doubt it," Tom told her with a smirk.

"It wouldn't be so bad if he didn't take credit for it." Rosemary rolled her eyes, remembering their encounter earlier in the week. While she and Tom were holding hands and walking through the corridor that led to the Slytherin common room, they had run into Slughorn. He was both surprised and delighted to discover their new relationship. "I always knew there was something between you two! I can be quite a matchmaker, you know!" he had boasted.

She had fought the urge to remind him that their partnership in Potions had been decided by the results on the exam they took the first day; they hadn't exactly been hand-picked by him to work together.

"If he's happy to think so, we should leave it at that," Tom told her, tracing a pattern on the back of her hand with his finger. "The happier he is about us being together, the stronger case he'll make for our selection as Head Boy and Head Girl."

"You're right," she sighed. "Well, this will be an interesting meeting." They were on their way to their first Slug Club meeting as a couple, and she had a feeling that their coupledom would be a large part of the conversation.

Tom and Rose reached his office door and she took out a small compact mirror to check her makeup and hair. He reached up to knock. She smiled up at him as they waited and wondered how she had gone her entire life without feeling as wonderful as she did when she was with him. It had only been a week since the ball and already she didn't know what she would do without him.

Slughorn opened the door and his eyes lit up immediately. "I can't get over it; you two make such a sharp couple!"

Rose forced herself to smile, bracing herself to deal with comments such as these for the rest of their evening at his office.

"Come in, come in! We have a _very_ special guest this evening." He stepped aside so they could enter. As he led them across his office to the adjoining room where they usually had dinner during the meetings, Slughorn continued to speak: "I do have a small confession to make, I suppose. You will be the only students joining us this evening; it is essential that this particular guest maintains a high degree of confidentiality and he requested that I only invited one or two of my students to meet him." Tom and Rose exchanged curious glances. Perhaps Tom was right about allowing Slughorn to take credit for their blossoming relationship; it certainly seemed to have led to some perks so far. Slughorn stopped at the doorway to his make-shift dining room and turned toward them, speaking in a hushed voice. "I'm sure I don't have to mention this to either of you, but as far as any of your classmates go, this meeting tonight never happened. Understood?"

They nodded and Slughorn led them into the next room. Rose saw a wizard sitting at the table and when he turned his face toward them, she was struck with an odd feeling of familiarity as though she had passed him on the street at some point. At the same time, she felt like she had just stepped in the presence of greatness. He had a certain aura about him that demanded awe, even though she didn't have a clue about who this wizard was.

"Tom, Rosemary…I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine, Nicolas Flamel. Nick, this is Tom Riddle and Rosemary Horton."

Her eyes widened and she looked between Tom, Slughorn, and the seated wizard in disbelief. Tom seemed equally as shocked and he said, "Excuse me, Professor, but did you say _Nicolas Flamel_?"

The wizard stood and approached them with a modest smile on his face. "It's a pleasure to meet you both." When he spoke, she recognized immediately that he had a French accent. He outstretched a hand to Rose and when she took it, he softly kissed the top of her hand.

"It's such an honor to meet you, Sir!" Rosemary was short of breath and feeling rather light-headed. It was quite a bit to take in, after all. It was _the_ Nicolas Flamel, the legendary, immortal creator of the Philosopher's Stone. It was even debated throughout the wizarding world whether or not he was still around or had chosen to pass away at some point through the ages. She now understood why he had requested that their meeting was kept confidential: surely if everyone knew he was still out there, they would be pounding on his front door every day, begging him to make them an Elixir of Life.

"It's truly an honor," Tom said as Flamel greeted him with a handshake.

"Horace has spoken so highly of both of you. The best in his sixth-year Potions class, I hear."

Rose felt her face turn scarlet and she gave him a shy smile.

"I have no doubt that they would have excelled just as profoundly in Alchemy, if we could have offered it this year. Alas, there wasn't quite enough demand," Slughorn said. "Let's sit! One of the kitchen elves will be here soon with our first course."

Tom sat in the seat across from Flamel and Rose slid into the seat to Tom's right. Tom seemed to recover from his initial shock, leaning forward slightly in his chair and beginning to ask Slughorn's guest question after question. She was happy that Tom had plenty to ask, because she was completely dumbfounded, still trying to process the fact that she was in the presence of someone so legendary.

Their first course arrived: a nice charcuterie spread with fresh bread. Rose briefly wondered why any other food from the Hogwarts kitchen was never as good as what they received during Slug Club.

"Mr. Flamel, what was your time at Beauxbatons like?" Tom asked.

"Much like your schooling here at Hogwarts, really," the wizard answered. "We were taught many of the same subjects, except there were fewer restrictions on what was taught."

"Do you think having more restrictions is a bad thing?"

"Yes and no. I suppose it's good for the protection of students. But knowing more about the vastness of magic was what led to my ability to create the Stone...Sometimes I worry that the restrictions on learning certain types of magic will hamper the creativity and discoveries of younger generations, as I'm sure it has already."

Tom looked fascinated, as though he was hanging onto every word for dear life. "That is _certainly _an interesting viewpoint, Sir. I quite agree." It was rather fun to see him this way, acting so adult-like and formal after she had finally seen a more relaxed, playful side to him.

Finally, Rose recovered from her shock and was able to ask a question: "How exactly does the Stone work?"

"It's quite ancient magic...a type of magic that one can never completely understand. It continues to elude me, all these years later." Flamel smiled sadly, as though she had touched on a weak spot. It made her feel rather guilty.

"So, how did you create it?" Tom asked.

"Now that's the question everyone would love to know the answer to!" said Slughorn with amusement.

The table was quiet for a moment until Flamel replied: "It was truly a great deal of trial and error and it took nearly forty years, which is why, regrettably, I don't resemble my twenty-something self." He chuckled a bit before continuing. "In the end, I'm not really sure how it was created. There were so many factors that went into it. I don't think I could remember the right combination if I tried." He spoke in such a kind, detached way, as though this didn't bother him in the slightest. She supposed this made sense; since he was immortal, he clearly had no need to replicate the Stone's creation. He had already reaped the benefits, after all.

She glanced over at Tom and a look rapidly passed over his face that suggested he wasn't very satisfied with the answer. With good reason, she supposed. Wasn't Flamel supposed to be the master of Alchemy? Of course, he had probably gotten quite close to creating the Stone on his own even if the last piece occurred by chance.

Their main course arrived, momentarily interrupting the conversation and giving Slughorn the opportunity to add himself back into it. "So, Nicolas, how is your wife?"

Rose looked at Flamel in surprise; he had a wife?

"She's quite well. We recently celebrated her six-hundredth and tenth birthday with a trip to Florence."

Slughorn smiled in amusement and looked at Tom and Rose for their shocked reactions yet again. Not only was he immortal, he had an immortal wife, too. Of course! The number six hundred and ten was rather difficult for her to wrap her head around. Mr. and Mrs. Flamel had spent over six lifetimes together; it was quite romantic to think about. Rose could hear how much he loved her in the way he spoke about her; she couldn't help but hope that Tom would speak the very same way of her one day.

Tom changed the subject again after a moment and proceeded to ask several additional questions. Before she knew it, they had finished dessert and Flamel announced that he would have to be on his way: "I should drop by Albus' office before it becomes too late," he said.

They stood from their chairs and both Tom and Rose thanked him for meeting them. They said their goodbyes and Slughorn escorted the wizard out of his office. When he returned, he gave them a look that indicated he was eager to hear their reactions. "Well, what did you think about meeting Nicolas Flamel?"

"That was such an incredible experience, Professor…Thank you so much for allowing us to meet him!" Rose gushed in excitement. "I could have listened to him speak for hours."

"Yes, thank you, Sir," Tom said. "That was quite fascinating."

Slughorn looked satisfied with their gratitude. "Well, you best be off to bed, it's nearly curfew."

They thanked him again and left his office. Once outside, Rose turned to Tom and said plainly, "We just met Nicolas Flamel. If you weren't there with me, I might've thought I dreamt it!"

* * *

"Can you believe it?" Tom was speaking excitedly, his steps through the corridor feeling more energetic than usual. He was still in a bit of a daze after meeting one of the most powerful and talented wizards of all time. Awe had completely spread over him, even though he now knew the discovery of the Stone hadn't been entirely by skill.

As they entered the Slytherin common room, he forced himself out of his head long enough to say, "I'll walk you to Ravenclaw Tower in a moment, but I have to run upstairs and fetch a book to return to the library on my way back."

"Sure," she said, following him up the stairs to his dormitory. To his surprise, his room was empty. Apparently, Avery, Lestrange, and their girlfriends were sneaking around the castle somewhere, which wasn't that surprising. They often disregarded the Hogwarts curfew rules, which was fine by him; he'd rather have the place to himself.

"Come to think of it," he said, "maybe you could just stay here for a while." He was in such a good mood and he really wanted to talk about the dinner with her.

Rose bit her lip and looked down at the floor. "I don't know…then I'll have to see Faye…"

Right. He had forgotten about their row; she hadn't spoken with Donohue in nearly a week and while he didn't mind the fact that Rose didn't want to be around her rather annoying friend, he certainly didn't like the fact that she was upset. "I could put a few charms on the doors…Avery and Lestrange won't know how to break them," he offered.

She gave him a mischievous smile. "That'll work!"

He pulled out his wand and began speaking the incantations of various charms to keep the doors locked when the others returned. He had just finished when he heard Rosemary exclaim. "So _this_is where my scarf has been!"

Tom spun around and saw that she was lying on her stomach on top of his bed, peering into an open drawer in his dresser. The same drawer that was _supposed_ to be locked at all times. Suddenly, he remembered in dismay that he had indeed forgotten to lock it before attending dinner that night.

His temper flared from both embarrassment and the fact that she had simply helped herself to his things. He walked quickly over to her. "What _is_ all this stuff?" she asked, holding up his diary. She was about to open the first page when he grabbed it from her hands and shoved it back into the drawer.

"Can't I look at your things?" she asked him, giving him a pouty face.

"No, that's why they're _mine_," he said, his voice to betraying a hint of annoyance with her.

"Not this," she said sassily, holding up the scarf in her hand. "Were you planning on giving this back to me?"

Tom looked away from her face. "I was," he lied.

"No you weren't," Rose smirked. "It's okay, you can keep it." She sat up and pulled him down to sit on the bed next to her. "Please don't be cross with me, I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset," he told her, even though he knew agitation was still leaking through his voice.

"If you aren't upset, you should just show me everything in your secret collection of things," she said.

"No."

"Why not? Please, Tom, I'm so curious!"

"You don't know when to quit, do you?" he smirked, despite himself. Apparently, it was near-impossible to stay angry with her.

"It's going to be on my mind constantly until I find out. I won't be able to think about anything else."

"It's just a bunch of random things," he said, trying to make her forget about it. "It's nothing special."

"I don't believe you…"

"Do you really want to see all of my things_ that_ badly?" He wondered what had made her so curious.

"Yes!" she said excitedly. "Just show me and then I won't have to wonder. I want to know all the secrets behind Tom Riddle!"

_You don't actually mean that, _he thought as his memories of the Chamber of Secrets flashed through his mind.

"Fine," he bluffed, faking a defeated voice.

"Really?" Rose looked so satisfied that she had won.

"No," Tom smirked. Before she could react, he pushed her body down onto his bed and climbed on top of her, pinning her hands down with his on both sides of her head.

"You're terrible!" she said. He could tell that she was trying to pout, but she ultimately broke down and started giggling.

"I think I'll just have to put your mind on something else entirely," he told her, bending his neck down to kiss her passionately. She kissed him back with her exquisite mouth and he felt himself get hard for her almost instantly. He buried his hands in her perfectly curled hair, licking her bottom lip so that she would let his tongue into her mouth. She obliged, and her tongue met his with the delicate dance he so enjoyed.

Rose reached up to untie his tie and slipped it over his head. She began to work on unbuttoning his shirt until he rolled off of her and pulled her on top of him. Tom reached behind her, running his hands under her dress, up the sides of her legs. He fought making the sound that tried to escape his mouth as she left a trail of kisses down his neck, but eventually gave in, letting out a small groan of pleasure. Absolutely everything she did felt wonderful and left him wanting so much more.

Tom reached around her and unzipped the back of her dress. Wordlessly, she stood and slid off the black chiffon. Her tights followed soon after so she was left in only her lingerie. Tom removed his shirt while admiring her body and pulled her back on top of him, kissing her deeply once more. He very much enjoyed the feeling of her warm, smooth skin against his and wondered how much better it would be if they were entirely naked. All in due time, he tried to tell himself. They had only been dating a week, after all. There was no reason to take things too quickly.

Still, Tom's manly desires were beginning to be too much to handle. He reached around her again to unclasp her bra, fumbling with it for a moment. She had made it look so easy in the Forest when she removed it for him. Finally, his fingers were successful and he slipped it off of her. She pressed her pelvis into his and began lightly moving in a rhythm against him. It aroused him even more, especially combined with the feeling of her bare, round breasts against his chest.

He could barely control himself anymore. Once again, he flipped her over so he was on top. He stopped kissing her to say, "All this talk of curiosity has made me interested in exploring a few things." He kissed her neck and along her collarbone. Eventually, he lowered his lips even further to kiss the top of her left breast. He began inching his way down further and further until he reached her round, hard nipple that was the perfect shade of pink. He kissed it first, and then opened his lips, circling it with his tongue.

She let out a light moan that only served to get him even more turned on. "I take it you're just fine with this type of exploration," he smirked.

"Yes," she said breathlessly as he pressed his tongue to her nipple once again. He reached his other hand up to her right breast and began playing with her other nipple. "More," she pleaded. He found that he loved providing her so much pleasure.

Tom bit down on her lightly and she let out a small gasp in delight. Then he allowed his hands to slide down her smooth, toned stomach to her underwear. He slipped them off of her and continued to use his tongue to toy with her nipples as he ran his hand over her neatly trimmed patch of hair and down towards parts of her that he had so far only dreamt of touching. He traced his fingers around her opening; it was unbearably sexy now that he could feel her wetness. His fingers slid between her two small folds and she let out another small moan when his finger pressed against a small peak. It was all very new for him and he had an urge to position himself between her legs and explore every part of her.

He kept his finger in the same spot, moving it in a small circle while his tongue continued to play with her nipples. She suddenly reached down and began grasping for his pants, unbuttoning the top button and beginning to slide down the zipper. He shooed her hand away.

She asked in despair, "Why are you the only one who gets to explore?"

"You've already done_ enough_ exploring tonight," he told her sternly. This would be her punishment. In addition, there was the fact that he would probably lose control completely if he let her touch him. He was enjoying this plenty and wanted to focus entirely on learning every inch of her body.

Tom kissed her again before she could argue and traced his fingers around her opening once more. Then he just couldn't help himself: he slid one of his long fingers inside her and she moaned loudly into his mouth as they kissed. The vibrations of her moan sent a pleasurable feeling down his spine. He began to move his finger around, exploring the warmth of her.

"There! Right there! Oh, Tom!" she said, closing her eyes. He moved his finger back and forth inside of her, careful to touch the spot she had indicated with every stroke. She began to moan louder, grasping his hair and pulling him down to kiss her. He rather enjoyed the way that she was starting to squirm around in pleasure and he couldn't keep himself from smirking at the sight. Thinking about doing these intimate things with her had made him somewhat nervous in because of his inexperience; it was reassuring to see that she was reacting with enthusiasm instead of being underwhelmed.

"Oh yes!" she exclaimed. The noises she made were causing him to throb in excitement. He ached to insert his shaft inside of her, but forced himself to resist yet again. It was a feat that took nearly all of his willpower. He moved his finger faster and her moans became increasingly breathy. Suddenly, he felt her contract around his finger and she let out her loudest, sexiest moan yet.

She collapsed on the pillow behind her, looking sleepy. He removed his finger from her, and he relished how wet it was. Rose pulled him down so that he was lying beside her and she turned her body toward his. "Tom…that was...something." She smiled, looking more relaxed than he had ever seen her before. He leaned over and kissed her softly. "Won't you let me thank you?" she asked him.

He knew exactly what she meant and debated it for a moment. It sounded wonderful to have her hands all over him, but he was simply too turned on. He knew he wouldn't be able to last very long if her delicate hands were to stroke him up and down; it would be a bit embarrassing if he were to climax the moment she touched him. "Another time," he smirked. "You look so tired."

"I am," she said. "I really want to spend the night next to you…"

He ran a hand through her shiny hair. "You can stay, if you'd like."

"Okay," she yawned. "You can unlock the doors. I don't care if Faye is here with Adam as long as I'm asleep and don't have to deal with her."

"Okay," he said. "I'll take the charms off in a moment. Make yourself comfortable, I'll be right back."

She nodded and Tom slid out of bed, making his way to the lavatory that was attached to the dormitory. He was still throbbing ridiculously and knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep in such a condition. As he thought back to the sight of her naked body and the noises she had made, it didn't take long at all to get himself off. Finally, he felt some relief.

Tom made his way back to his dormitory, grabbing his wand off of his desk and quickly lifting the locking charms he had placed over the doors. He approached the bed and she scooted over to make room for him. He pulled the covers over them and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. She was quite warm and her hair smelled so wonderful.

"I still can't believe we met Nicolas Flamel. Slughorn adores us," she said.

Tom had been so caught up in his physical exploration of her that he had almost entirely forgotten about their meeting with Flamel. It felt as though it had happened weeks ago. "It is rather hard to process. Although I have to admit, I was rather disappointed in some of his answers."

"Me too. I know he's a brilliant wizard, but before I thought it was more of a stroke of genius than random chance…" She yawned and then added, "It was a little romantic, though."

"How do you mean?"

She tilted her head and looked up at him. "Flamel and his wife…he wanted to spend forever with her so he found a way to do it. He gave her such an amazing gift. It _has _to be the ultimate expression of love."

Tom contemplated it for a moment. "Yes, I suppose you're right," he said. She smiled at him and then rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes. He watched her as she drifted off to sleep, his mind still dancing around the last comment that she had made.

Thinking about such strong love between other people made him reflect on his own burgeoning feelings toward her. Did he love her? The answer was an instant, unequivocal _yes. _Until Rosemary, he had accepted the fact that he would never have significant feelings, much less love, for anyone. But he knew now that he had loved her, deeply and wholly, even before they became a couple. It didn't stop there: his love for her seemed dynamic, growing stronger and stronger with every moment he spent with her. He had abandoned any hopes of abating his obsession for her; it had become a part of him.

He pondered the fact that one day he would lose her, either due to a failure on his part to make her happy or their lack of immortality. Both possibilities were enough to make him feel sick and distraught. It was both terrifying and exhilarating to realize that he could no longer envision his life without her. He couldn't be sure of the direction in which his life was headed, but he knew that he would have to find a way to ensure she was always with him. It wasn't until he met Rose that he had experienced true happiness, and he couldn't even begin to fathom how painful it would be to let her go.

* * *

"_But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world." ― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry_

* * *

**So, things were **_**quite**_** steamy this chapter! I hope you also thought their dinner with Nicolas Flamel was interesting!**

**Just a quick note - I've been wondering lately if the characters in the story are convincingly British. I'm from the U.S. and there are probably hundreds of British terms I'm not familiar with. If something seems like it was clearly written on this side of the pond, please let me know and I'll fix it!**

_**Preview for next chapter: I'm going to take a break from having both Rose and Tom's perspectives and focus entirely on Tom in the next chapter.**_


	14. Part I - Knowledge is Power

Knowledge is Power

_February 20, 1944_

Tom found it quite pleasant to wake up to the sight of Rosemary in his bed. He couldn't help but to run a hand over her body, still completely naked from the previous night's explorations. He traced her leg, hip, waist, and shoulder, before finally stroking her hair. Tom should have felt guilty for waking her, but was too content to see her blue eyes open for the first time that day. She turned over so she was facing him; this time she didn't seem as testy as she had when he woke her in the library earlier that week.

"Good morning," she whispered, smiling before raising her head up to reach his lips with her own.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, continuing to stroke her hair.

"Quite well, thank you. And you?"

"Likewise."

She lifted her head up and glanced around the room; both Donohue and Orion had also spent the night. "I should go before they all wake up."

He didn't want her to leave, but nodded in understanding. Rose reached over the side of the bed and grabbed her clothes. He watched in amusement as she struggled to dress under the covers so the others didn't catch a glimpse of her exposed body.

She leaned down to kiss his cheek as she stood to leave. He found himself wishing that every morning could be like this, but it was rather impractical for her to spend every night in his dormitory, of course. When she left, Tom leaned over to smell the pillow she had slept on and allowed her scent to fill his lungs. He was tempted to stay in bed all morning, but forced himself to get up; he may as well do something productive.

His first stop would be Slughorn's office.

The professor promptly answered his office door and greeted Tom warmly, welcoming him inside. "What can I do for you, Tom?"

"Well," he started, "I wanted to thank you for allowing Miss Horton and I to meet with Mr. Flamel. It was _quite_ an astounding experience." Tom decided to leave out his underwhelmed thoughts of Flamel.

"I was hoping you two would enjoy it! It was my pleasure. When he informed me that he would be paying Albus and myself a visit, I thought that you especially might want to meet with him. I couldn't help but remember your interest in horcruxes and thought I might introduce you to a branch of magic that is perhaps more…worthwhile to study. I do wish we could have offered classes in alchemy this term."

Slughorn's comment irritated him. So the meeting was simply meant to distract him from studying potentially troubling areas of magic, with Slughorn attempting to steer him in the "right" direction? He certainly did not appreciate professors telling him what he should and should not study. What was possibly wrong with wanting to gain as much magical knowledge as he could?

But it wasn't the first time he had been reminded of horcruxes in the past day. Before he had fallen asleep the night before, he had thought of Nicolas Flamel's quest for immortality. He had spent _decades_ developing the Philosopher's Stone and could have saved so much time if he had just created a horcrux instead. Of course, murder was the prerequisite for doing so and Tom realized that not everyone had the stomach for it. But if one wanted immortality above all else, it seemed like such a small price to pay. Especially if the condition could be fulfilled by offing someone that wouldn't be particularly missed, like a beggar or someone of the sort.

Another thought briefly flickered across his mind: if he had known about horcruxes the previous year, before Myrtle's death, he could have been immortal at that very moment. It occurred to Tom that he had caused the death of a fellow student without feeling even a hint of guilt for it. Admittedly, the more he thought about it in the past week, he became increasingly certain that his reaction was actually entirely normal. Did people ever actually feel guilty for killing if the victims themselves were of no worth to society, such as the muggle-born folk? Perhaps it was simply that people expressed guilt only because it was the "right" thing to do; but who, really, determined right from wrong?

He realized that Slughorn was still speaking and finally tuned back in to what he was saying: "Now it's so clear why both of you wanted each other chosen as Head Boy and Head Girl…"

Tom said nothing, but moved to stand in front of the fireplace. He enjoyed looking at the flames, consuming everything in their path with little discrimination. Slughorn continued to ramble on about their coupledom, until Tom finally interrupted. "Sir, who is on the panel that makes the final decision?"

"Well, it is myself, Headmaster Dippet of course, Professor Flannigan, Professor Viesey, and Professor Dumbledore."

Tom swallowed slowly as he heard the last name. It made sense that each Head of House was on the selection panel, but Tom had hoped this wasn't the case for the Head of Gryffindor. He was the only professor that didn't seem to like him and he hadn't a clue why. He was even at the top of the class in Transfiguration, along with Rosemary, who seemed to get along with him just fine.

"I see," he said quietly, letting the information fully sink in. He considered the flames again and realized what he should do, suddenly feeling full of purpose. "I should be off, Sir. Thank you again for allowing us to have dinner with Nicolas Flamel."

Slughorn gave him a cheery smile and Riddle was on his way, heading quickly to the staircase that would lead him to Professor Dumbledore's office. Clearly he would have to take matters into his own hands and begin campaigning for himself; he didn't want there to be any doubt in his selection as Head Boy.

The door was opened slightly when he finally reached it, five flights of stairs and a few corridors later. Tom took a slow deep breath before knocking, knowing this encounter would surely test his limited patience. "Come in," he heard Professor Dumbledore say.

Tom pushed open the door and let himself inside. Dumbledore was in the process of writing something; he caught a glimpse and thought it looked like a lengthy letter. "Hello, Tom. How may I help you?" he asked, sounding rather distracted and continuing to write.

There was something about Dumbledore that had always made him somewhat uncomfortable. Perhaps it was the fact that he was the one who had brought Tom to Hogwarts from Wool's Orphanage; it was disconcerting that he, or anyone, knew about Tom's past.

Tom thought about bringing up his dinner with Nicolas Flamel, but thought better of it. He wasn't sure if Slughorn had informed Dumbledore and he certainly didn't want to have his best professor accused of blatant favoritism. He shifted nervously between his feet before speaking with an air of his perfect, practiced composure: "Sir, with Head Boy and Head Girl selection quickly approaching, I was wondering if you had a preferred candidate?"

Dumbledore didn't even look up as he responded. "It would be of conflicting interest to the other applicants if I told you."

"But you _do _have a preference though," Tom pressed on.

"It's impossible to say without reviewing each application. There will be plenty of qualified applicants this term...I trust that it will be _very_ difficult to choose."

It was as though Dumbledore was trying to provoke him. Tom forced himself to take a breath, calming himself before replying. "Well, you may have guessed that I am planning on applying."

"I wish you the best of luck in your pursuits," he said lightly. "I do hope Miss Horton will apply as well."

Now he was _clearly _trying to provoke Tom. Hadn't he said just seconds ago that he didn't have a preference? Asking about Rose certainly seemed to indicate the opposite. As if all of this wasn't obvious enough already, he carried on: "You're lucky to have her, she's quite clever."

It was true; Tom _did _feel lucky to have her. But it stung hearing it from someone else, as though Dumbledore was suggesting that Tom was entirely unworthy of her. He gritted his teeth as he spoke. "Yes, _both _of us are always top of the class…" Tom told himself to stop there, but couldn't help it; his temper had been flared and it was overpowering. "…which is why it simply wouldn't be logical for anyone else to be named Head Boy and Head Girl."

Dumbledore must have sensed his anger because he finally looked up, his blue eyes piercing him as though he was scanning every inch of Tom's mind. "Tom," he said calmly, "I told you that I cannot reveal any preference."

The calmness of the professor's voice served only to enrage him more. "Surely you are aware of the fact that no student at this school has the same dedication to the study of magic as I, nor the talent." His voice was sharp, cutting like razors through the air. He knew that it was arrogant and rather rude to say, but at the time, he found that he didn't really give a damn.

It didn't seem to faze Dumbledore at all. A hint of a serene smile appeared on his face; it seemed like the more composure Tom lost, the more that the professor gained. He stood from his desk, walked over to Tom, and placed a hand on his arm. Dumbledore's eyes gazed down at him, conveying an air of complete superiority. The look alone was enough to make Tom's blood boil. "One of the most valuable assets for a student to have is an appreciation for the limitations of their knowledge."

Tom glared at him and ripped his arm away, storming out of the office before he could begin shouting obscenities at the infuriating wizard. He was too mad to care about the fact that he had likely lost any possible endorsement from Dumbledore in regard to the Head Boy position. What did it matter? He didn't _need_ him anyway. There were three other professors, and the headmaster, who would be happy to make him Head Boy. It wasn't even worth the exhaustion of trying to get on Dumbledore's good side; he would take his chances.

He fumed as he walked down the corridor. What was Dumbledore's problem with him anyhow? Why did he always seem hesitant to encourage him? It wasn't simply because he was a Slytherin and Dumbledore the Head of Gryffindor; he had seen the professor interacting quite amicably with others from his house. The professor was known as a great wizard; even Slughorn carried on about Dumbledore's magical feats from time to time. As such, shouldn't he be more impressed with Tom's accomplishments at Hogwarts, especially knowing that he didn't grow up with any sort of magical influence?

Dumbledore's last comment rang in his ears: _"One of the most valuable assets for a student to have is an appreciation for the limitations of their knowledge."_

Tom came to the realization that a burning hate for the professor had suddenly been brought to the surface. He had a feeling that it had been there for some time, but it had just taken him this encounter to realize it fully. Tom rounded the corner and spotted the library. For the second time that morning, he was filled with purpose.

He entered the restricted section and began pulling any book off the shelf that he hadn't yet read, until his arms were full. He brought them to the study room that he usually shared with Rosemary and was rather relieved that she wasn't there. He was in the mood to be alone, to fume and sulk in peace. He remembered the way that Dumbledore looked at him, full of calm superiority, and the memory fueled his vast temper.

But in the face of the unpleasant encounter and his subsequent rage, his new purpose and drive had been born: he would dedicate his life to becoming a master of magical knowledge. One day, preferably sooner than later, he would be a greater wizard than even Dumbledore.

He decided to read into each subject a bit at a time; it wouldn't be enough to study just one branch of magic, he needed to master them _all_ if he were to succeed in his task. Tom began with an old History of Magic textbook, cracking it open and pouring himself into the pages, absorbing word after word. He was lucky to have such a sharp memory; it took no effort at all to retain nearly everything he read. But perhaps this was due in part to his newfound motivation.

Interestingly, he reached the section regarding the founders of Hogwarts and came across a line that seemed to contradict the story Rosemary told him at the waterfall in the Forest earlier that week: _Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor were married in 997 A.D._

Tom debated telling Rose about it; surely she would be disappointed that her grandfather's story was wrong. Then again, she seemed to think that he might have been a bit loony...He made a mental note, deciding to show her the section later. He put the book down and stretched, glancing up at the clock. Nearly an hour had passed and he had only read on one subject. He picked up a new book, this time about the Dark Arts. He began reading once more with exceptional zeal, given that this was, without a doubt, his favorite subject.

He soon came across a couple of subjects that he had read about before: legilimency and occlumency. For some reason, they hadn't seemed nearly as interesting before as they did now. Perhaps his encounter with Dumbledore had given him a greater appreciation regarding their potential uses. If he was a skilled legilimens, he could have simply read Dumbledore's mind to see who he was planning to advocate for the Head Boy position; the entire episode would have been completely unnecessary.

This sparked a genuinely terrifying thought in his mind: what if Professor Dumbledore knew legilimency? Would that explain that feeling Tom got whenever Dumbledore looked into his eyes? Not only would he be aware of Tom's loathing toward him, but also more serious secrets of his, such as the events regarding the Chamber of Secrets the previous year. It made Tom quite paranoid to think about, so he tried to push it from his mind. Surely, if he knew for sure that it was Tom's fault, Dumbledore wouldn't have let him get away with it. Regardless, the fact that his memories were clear and out in the open once more was all the more reason to learn a skill like occlumency. He decided that mastering these should be his first order of business as they were both fairly basic and extremely useful. In the meantime, he would continue his mastery of other subjects: Potions was up next.

Eventually, Tom forced himself to leave the library, checking out five books regarding legilimency and occlumency on his way out. After stopping in the Great Hall for dinner, he returned to the dungeons and was nearing the Slytherin common room when he looked up to see Lestrange approaching him in the corridor.

"Afternoon, mate," he said. "You look quite chipper."

Tom narrowed his eyes, saying nothing in response. He _was_ in a better mood since leaving the library, filled with the hopefulness of new purpose and ambition.

Lestrange raised an eyebrow suggestively. "I couldn't help but notice that Horton spent the night last night."

Why was it that everyone seemed to think that any part of their relationship should be public knowledge? Was it so difficult for everyone to mind their own damned business?

"Yes," Tom said, his voice heavily laden with annoyance. "And?"

Lestrange smirked. "Nothing at all…it just explains your good mood. At least she left before Faye woke up. That might've ended in disaster." Tom continued walking toward the common room and Lestrange followed behind him. "I can't imagine Avery is too happy about it either; she _never_ slept over when she was with him. But you knew that of course." Clearly, Lestrange was somehow under the impression that Tom wanted to talk about all of this. "So, was she as good as he always said she was…?"

It took Tom a moment to realize what Lestrange was actually asking about, but when he did, he was appalled and in a state of near disbelief. At times he forgot how vile his housemates could be. His temper flared and he quickly drew his wand. "_Confringo!_" He flicked his wrist and Lestrange was violently thrown back against the wall.

The spell had hit him directly in the stomach and he began coughing; Tom assumed it made him lose his breath. He calmly strode over and stood above him, looking down at him with his most threatening glare. "If you _ever_ bring that up again, I promise that whatever happens to you will be much, much worse." Lestrange looked up and nodded; the fear in his eyes made Tom feel powerful, almost as powerful as his newly attained knowledge made him feel. He found that he quite enjoyed it. He briskly turned on his heel and continued to the common room, drunk with power and thirsty for more.

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"_His resolve is not to seem, but to be, the best." ― Aeschylus_

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**Ah, I apologize that this chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but hopefully you enjoyed it nonetheless! It was kind of nice to just write from Tom's point of view this time. I'll be writing from Rose's two chapters from now, and later in the series I may incorporate some occasional "guest" POVs.**

**Thank you to NoneOfYourBusiness101, S the Sky Pirate, and Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack for your reviews, as well as those of you that have favorited/followed this story! It's officially over 50,000 words, hooray!**

_**Preview for next chapter: drinking, a swim, and a secret.**_

**I'll post a little early this week since I was late on this one. Thanks for reading!**


	15. Part I - Swimming and Secrets

**I have some news! First of all, I changed my username.(: At this point I'm pretty enamored with this growing story between Rose and Tom so it seemed suitable. Also, surprise, I'm updating a day early! I had a lot of free time to write yesterday and worked on a few chapters. Let's get to it, then:**

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Swimming and Secrets

_February 25, 1944_

He watched Rose grimace from across the table as she scanned the page. "Please include an essay of no fewer than 2000 words describing your academic path and activities as a Hogwarts student." She looked at him and added, "Why would they ask us to do that if we have to list out everything we've done earlier in the application?"

Tom gave her an understanding look. Head Boy and Head Girl applications had been passed out to the sixth-years earlier in the day and were due in a week's time. Even Tom, who rarely complained about anything he had to work on for school, had to admit that it was quite a lengthy packet of papers.

"At least we can suffer through it together," she sighed.

"Yes, that's true." He gave her a half smile and tucked a piece of her long, red hair behind her ear.

"Don't you two ever get sick of each other?" It was Cramer, who walked over and sat next to Rose. Granted, it was actually Tom that was out of place at the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall, but his growing agitation at Warren's presence could not be helped. There was no telling how long he would stay and intrude on what _had_ been a perfectly pleasant evening.

Rose didn't seem to mind, smiling pleasantly and looked to her left at Warren. "Not in the slightest!" she said.

Tom watched as he reached over and picked up the first page of Rosemary's application, which she had filled in with her careful, neat scribbles. "Ah! Your Head Girl application…I'm guessing you're applying too, Riddle?"

Tom loathed the way Cramer talked, as though everything was amusing to him. He nodded, utilizing his vast will-power to maintain his polite composure and prevent any hint of his dislike from showing through.

"Well I should wish you both the best of luck, but this may not be entirely genuine in your case," he told Tom with a smirk. "I'm applying for Head Boy, too."

Hearing this news didn't unnerve Tom in any sense, at least at first. What reason would possibly explain Cramer getting chosen over him? Well, there was Dumbledore, he supposed. He couldn't help but ponder the minuscule possibility that Warren and Rose would be chosen. Aside from the fact that this would mean Tom had lost to someone completely inferior, Rose would have to spend a significant amount of her free time with him. Not to mention the fact that only one door separated the Head Boy and Girl's quarters. It would be impossible to trust Cramer being that close to her on a daily basis and it would surely drive him mad.

"Well, either of you will be a great choice," Rose said. Tom knew she was just saying it to be kind, but he wished she hadn't. It certainly didn't do a thing to calm his nerves. "We should be off," Rose glanced across the table at Tom and then smiled warmly at Warren.

They left the table and started toward the dungeons. Her kind words to Cramer rung in his ears and they seemed to bother him more and more with each second that passed; he could feel himself begin to grow irritable with her. Finally, she said, "I hope you know that I won't be happy unless you're chosen. I was just saying that to be polite."

"Of course," he told her. He tried to hide his residual agitation, but she gave him a look that indicated he hadn't hid it quite well enough.

They reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room and she lingered in the hall. "You don't _honestly_ think he would get chosen over you, Tom." It was a statement, not a question.

He was ashamed with himself for allowing her see his confidence falter for a moment. He hadn't meant to take it out on her, but the words spilled from his mouth too quickly to stop them: "No, I don't, and it's quite insulting that you would even suggest it."

She didn't look fazed as he snapped at her, with the exception of a barely perceptible glimmer of anger that flashed through her eyes. "I apologize," she told him quietly, averting her eyes from his.

Tom immediately regretted his words after seeing her look and realizing that she had clearly taken offense at his tone. He knew that she hadn't meant to agitate him and that he shouldn't have spoken to her that way. The exchange was also a rather painful reminder that he would never be like her, or any of the other purebloods, with their limitless grace and cordiality. Tom could act as polite as he wanted, but beneath the surface he would forever be an outsider, unable to attain such a level of refinement because of his temper. Of course, their temper and inner darkness was something he and Rose actually had in common and he loved her for it. But thanks to her upbringing, Rose was gifted with the natural ability to hide these negative emotions and that is where the difference between them lay. He would have completely missed the anger in her eyes if he wasn't well above average in terms of reading people.

He wanted to say something to fix his damage, but couldn't think of the right words. He muttered the password to the common room and stepped inside, hoping that she would follow behind him. Inside, there were a few younger students scattered throughout the room, but the other Slytherins they knew were nowhere to be found. This was not unusual since the row between Rose and Faye had taken place. It was rather like a custody battle and Rose had won the Slytherin common room, primarily because she had simply refused to begin avoiding it. Ironic, perhaps, considering the fact that Faye had more students from the Slytherin house on her side. However, it was becoming increasingly clear to Tom that Rose was much too willful to cede to the wishes of others. He rather admired her stubbornness and her refusal to make amends on any terms other than her own. She was in complete control of the situation and it was a bit of a thrill to see her in such a position. It was rather nice, anyway; the longer she took to make up with Faye, the more time he could spend with her and the less time he would have to see Avery, Lestrange, and Orion in the common room. He knew it was rather selfish to find a benefit in her situation, but he couldn't help being somewhat thankful.

"Shall we begin our applications?" Rose asked. She seemed to be speaking normally again, so Tom couldn't see the point in bringing up his rudeness toward her.

He nodded and they sat near each other on the couch. He took out his ink and quill, flipping through the pages and deciding to begin with the essay section. The encounter with Warren was an infusion of motivation to his veins; now he was more hell-bent to secure the Head Boy position than ever. He began scribbling furiously.

They worked for another hour or so until Rosemary stood and stretched her arms out long, shaking the writing cramps out of her hands. She smiled at him and leaned over to give him a quick kiss. Even now, when he could steal a kiss from her whenever he pleased, each one still gave him a pleasant, stirring feeling in his stomach. So did her smile, and her lovely laugh. Months ago, when his infatuation of her was at its beginning, he wondered if these simple things would lose their magic. Now this thought was ridiculous; how could that ever be the case?

"Do you know what might make this more enjoyable?" she asked him.

He shook his head, but hoped she was referring to snogging or something along those lines.

"Alcohol," she said plainly, with a grin.

_For Merlin's sake, not the gin._

He absolutely loathed it. This must have shown on his face because Rose said, "You don't like drinking, do you?" She shook her head as though she had said something ridiculous. "Nonsense; we just have to find you something you like."

"I don't know…" he said hesitantly. "Shouldn't we continue working on the application? It's due in a week's time, you know."

"We have all weekend! Come on, it'll be fun."

He might have refused, but still felt guilty for the way he had treated her earlier and felt the need to make up for it somehow. "Fine," he sighed.

She gave him a look of satisfaction and excitement, clapping her hands together once. "Let's head to Ravenclaw Tower!"

When they arrived at the empty common room, ten minutes or so later, she sat him down in a chair. "Why don't you start by telling me what you've tried?"

"Your gin," he admitted, though he was a bit embarrassed to voice his inexperience.

"That's it?" Her eyes widened and he wished he hadn't told her anything. "I probably should have guessed; it's not like you ever came down for our parties." He tossed her a playful glare and she added, "Sorry. Well we have a lot to choose from then! This will be fun."

She stood and picked up her wand, walking over to a large bookshelf in the corner of the room. She looked around the room as if to ensure that the common room was indeed empty, placed her wand on the wood of the third shelf, and began muttering quietly to herself. As Tom watched her curiously, the books began to melt away as though they were ice on a hot summer day. When they disappeared completely, he saw rows and rows of glass bottles. Some were completely full; others had only a few drops in the bottom.

Rose turned around and smirked at his look of surprise. "Even though we Ravenclaw are studious, we _do _know how to have a good time. Unfortunately, with Vince as Head Boy this year, we haven't really had the chance to use any of this. Besides, the Slytherin parties were always so much better." She turned back to the shelf and placed her hands on her hips. "Now, what to begin with…there are so many options." He watched her choose four bottles from the shelf and bring them back to where he was seated. She sat them on the coffee table and picked up the one closest to her. "This is firewhiskey. It's probably the most popular beverage of choice at Hogwarts…this brand, Ogden's Old, is by far the best. It used to be one of my favorites, but I can't stomach it anymore."

She unscrewed the cap and passed it to him. The amber-colored liquid smelled hot and spicy, like cinnamon. He took a tiny sip and it burned his tongue; he made a face and Rose laughed. "You're supposed to drink more than _that_," she said. "Try not to hold it in your mouth for long. Just swallow it right away; it's better like that."

He obliged, though her suggestion didn't improve things by much. His insides felt like they were on fire.

"Alright, you don't like it," she said. "Let's try this one next: Knotgrass Mead."

He tried it and it was disgustingly cloying; he shook his head and passed it back to her.

"Okay…This next one isn't something you can really take a swig of," she said, holding up the third bottle. This time it held a clear liquid. "It's called purvocatus and it's extremely strong," she warned. "In fact, it's banned in many parts of the world." Attached to the bottom of the cap was a dropper. "Just take one drop. You'll feel it almost instantly."

Tom was already feeling something from the first two drinks, but at least he was beginning to enjoy himself. He placed one drop on his tongue and winced; the burn from the firewhisky was a faint tickle compared to what he felt. She was right about its strength; he felt his head whir and it was hard to focus on her face for a moment. It was perhaps the most relaxed he had ever felt.

He leaned forward and touched her pretty face as she smiled back at him. "I can tell you're feeling it now," she said.

"And what about you?" he asked her, grasping her hand and pulling her close to him. She didn't respond, but tilted her head slightly and kissed him on the mouth. He pulled away and reached for the purvocatus bottle, using the dropper to place one drop of it on his fingertip. He brought it to her lips and she laughed before wrapping her lips around his finger and licking the droplet off with her tongue. It was probably one of the most sexually suggestive things he had ever witnessed and couldn't help but wonder what it might be like to have her soft lips wrapped around, well, a different part of him.

She closed her eyes for a moment and then looked at him again, still smiling. "One more," she said, reaching for the fourth bottle. "This is scotch; single-malt scotch actually."

He drank again and was pleasantly surprised at the taste. It was reminiscent of firewhisky, but was smooth and smoky. Tom could taste vanilla, cardamom and a bit of ginger; it reminded him of the way Rose smelled. He nodded at her. "This one," he said.

* * *

Tom took another swig of scotch and Rosemary tried to take it from his hands. "You should slow down." She laughed as he wrestled it back out of her grasp. This was the most playful she had ever seen him and she loved it. Clearly he was well on his way to completely sauced. "You'll be sick and then scotch will be ruined forever, you know," she told him. He was hesitant, but gave it to her, after taking yet another drink. "_Tom_," she scolded him.

He merely laughed and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her onto his lap.

"I should put everything away before Vince gets back," she said. Rose tried to stand, but his strong arms held her down. "I'll come back, I promise."

Tom looked satisfied and leaned back on the couch. "Not that one," he told her as she lifted the scotch off the table. Rose smirked and set it down again, bringing the other three bottles to their bookshelf hiding place. As she walked, she felt a bit wobblier than usual and knew the purvocatus was beginning to take effect. She felt his eyes on her as she put everything away and brought her wand to the shelf to reverse her incantation. Books covered up the bottles once more and she moved back over to Tom, feeling increasingly buzzed from the tiny droplet she had sucked from his finger.

He smiled as she sat down on his lap again and kissed him on the cheek. Tom kissed her back with enthusiasm. Suddenly, he looked at her and said, "We should go somewhere else."

"Okay…where to?" she asked, rather surprised at his spontaneity.

"Follow me," he told her. She got off his lap so he could stand and he grabbed the bottle of scotch on the way out, hiding it in his robes.

"I'm not closing my eyes this time," she said, remembering their fantastical trip to the Chamber of Secrets.

"Fine, ruin the fun."

As they walked, she noticed that he was having trouble walking in a straight line. She giggled at him when his back was turned and kept close to him so she could try to steady him if he tripped. They walked to the fifth floor of the school and Tom stopped at a door near the statue of Boris the Bewildered.

"Oh my, Tom, what a romantic spot…the prefects' bathroom…" she said sarcastically.

He ignored her and muttered the password. When she followed him inside, she realized they were alone. Tom stepped over to the huge, pool-like tub on the right side of the room and turned the water on. It began to fill quickly and he returned to her. "Care for a swim?" he asked.

"What if someone comes in?" she asked him.

"I'll tell them to leave," he said simply. There was a daring, dangerous look in his eyes that was immeasurably sexy. He had shed his formal persona, revealing a rather bizarre, carefree one. He took the glass bottle from his robe, helping himself to yet another drink before handing it to her. "Now you have to catch up," he said.

She took the bottle and drank the equivalent of one…two…three…four shots. It made her queasy for a moment; this certainly wasn't the gin she had grown so accustomed to. When she finished and set the bottle down, he smirked and said, "That's it."

The pool had finished filling and he walked over to turn it off. Then, without hesitation, he stripped off his clothes leaving only his boxers, and dove into the deep pool. Tom swam to the shallow side so he could stand and asked, "What are you waiting for?"

Rose took off her robe, slid her sweater over her head, and pulled down her skirt, adding it to his heap of clothes, leaving only her knickers on as well. She stepped over to the water and stuck her big toe in, nearly shrieking when she felt how cold it was. "You couldn't have run some hot water with it?!"

"I thought you _liked_ the cold."

"Not that cold…"

He swam over to her. "It's not so bad once you get in." Tom reached up and tried to grab her ankle, but she evaded him.

Tom had that dangerous, mischievous look in his eyes again. He splashed water up at her.

"Tom!" It hit her feet and she hurried away from the pool so he couldn't try it again.

He laughed and said, "I'll warm you up if you come in."

It was tempting, but Rose crossed her arms over her chest and said stubbornly, "No!"

He grasped the edge of the pool and hoisted himself out of the water. It dripped off of him and for a moment, they stood there looking at each other.

_Oh, bollocks._

She ran for the pile of clothes and he chased her. Rose started giggling uncontrollably from the excitement and the booze. "You're completely mad!"

His long strides caught up to her easily, even though he was laughing too. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind her and pressed his wet, frigid body against hers. "No, I'm drunk," he said. "Thanks to you."

As soon as he finished speaking, he picked her up and tossed her into the pool as she let out a tiny scream. The water was cold, but she had to admit that it felt rather nice. She hadn't realized how warm the scotch had made her. He jumped into the water behind her and pulled her close again, spinning her around to face him and planting his mouth on hers. She could taste the scotch on him and it suddenly reminded her of the scotch she had smelled in their Amortentia earlier that month.

"See? Not so bad is it?"

She certainly didn't want to admit to him that he was right. "Well _that_ was rude, Mr. Riddle." She splashed him in his face and he gave her an appalled look.

"No, _that_ was rude, Miss Horton!" He splashed her back and suddenly they were waging a full-on water war.

In the commotion, she accidentally swallowed some the wrong way and began coughing. The splashing stopped immediately and he swam over to her. "Are you alright?" he asked her, his eyes filled with concern. She should have let it go then. It could have been because she was now completely hammered, but she felt like being difficult.

She coughed once more and she splashed him again. He looked shocked, then intimidating. Instead of splashing her back, he grabbed her arms and forced her against the wall of the pool. "I dislike being tricked very much. You shouldn't take advantage of the fact I care about you." If he didn't say it in such a teasing voice, she might have been genuinely frightened, or at least felt guilty.

Tom's body was so close to hers. One of his hands reached around to the back of her head and pulled slightly on her hair so she bared her neck for him. His lips glided over her wet skin and she couldn't help but let out a small moan. She loved experiencing his masculine dominance in the way he touched and spoke to her.

Suddenly, he stopped and looked up at her. "I think I'd like to lie down for a moment."

It was her turn to look concerned. "Of course," she said. "Are things spinning?" He nodded and got out of the pool as she followed him. "Try to stare at a point on the ceiling," she instructed.

He laid on the tile floor and did as she said while she walked to the corner of the room and got a couple of towels along with a glass of water. Rose returned to him and put one of the towels under his head. Her instincts to care for him had clearly kicked in.

"Thank you," he told her. He watched as Rose dried her hair on a towel and wiped the dripping water from her body. "Come here," he commanded. She knelt down and he pulled her so she was lying on top of him and her head rested on his chest.

"Do you feel sick?" she asked, running her fingers gently through his wet hair.

He shook his head. "I feel dizzy; it's quite nice to lie down."

"You should drink some water." She raised her head from his chest to reach for the glass and realized her own dizziness had kicked in. Rose sipped a bit of it before handing it over to him and telling him that he needed to finish the glass.

He obeyed her once more and returned his head to the towel behind it. "Everything felt very pleasant for a while," he said.

She smiled and drew circles on his chest with her fingers. "That's how it always goes. The trick is consuming the perfect amount so this doesn't happen."

"I truly detest Professor Dumbledore," Tom said suddenly.

Rose was caught completely off-guard and hadn't a clue what to say. The statement had come entirely from nowhere and she wasn't sure what to make of it, seeing as she personally didn't have a problem with Dumbledore. "Why is that?" she couldn't help but ask.

Tom carried on as though he hadn't heard her question: "If I am not made Head Boy because of _him_, I swear that I will-"

"Tom, you _will_ be made Head Boy," Rose interjected. After her comment earlier had upset him, she thought it best not to let his mind dwell on the possibility of failure. She raised her head from his chest and moved so she was lying beside him. Then she brought a hand to his cheek and slowly turned his head toward her, looking into his eyes. His usual confidence faltered momentarily and in that moment, he looked startlingly vulnerable. An odd feeling of happiness and hope washed over her. Not because he was upset, of course, but because she felt that he was finally beginning to trust her with his most hidden thoughts. She felt closer to him than ever before and it was all rather strange when she realized how she desperately wanted him to rely on her. Rose truly yearned to comfort him if he was upset; she would take care of him if he would only let her. She was filled with hope in this moment because she had finally been given the chance. Her only hope was that her words would be enough. "You _will_ be chosen," she repeated firmly.

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"_You can use my skin to bury your secrets in and I will settle you down. And at my own suggestion I will ask no questions." – Fiona Apple_

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**I know, I know...I wrote another sappy chapter. I think it was an important one to write, though, to show the trust growing between them. One of my biggest pet peeves with fanfiction is when writers spend all this time bringing two characters together and then everything is happy and perfect as soon as they are. The beginning of a relationship is almost always a bit of a struggle; there is still so much to figure out, given the entirely new dynamic. All I can say is that you had better enjoy these moments because after their sixth year is over, things won't be nearly as chipper!(;**

**A very special shout-out to NoneOfYourBusiness101 this time! Your continued support is soooo appreciated!**

**I try not to ask for reviews often because I know it can get annoying, but seriously guys, please leave them. It's actually really difficult to know if I'm taking the story in the right direction without them. Plus, if I get lots of them, I promise I'll put out updates even more frequently! Follows and favorites are also quite appreciated.(:**

**Thank you for reading!**


	16. Part I - The Wager

The Wager

_March 4, 1944_

"Now, let's repeat the Three D's of Apparition once more," Gil Pollack, their Apparition instructor cued.

In unison, the class spoke: "Destination, Deliberation, and Determination."

"Excellent!" Gil praised them. He was young, perhaps in his early thirties, and had been sent from the Ministry. Many of the girls in the class found him quite handsome and they flirted with him incessantly, asking for personal tutoring and the like.

Rose wished they would all leave him alone. As they were giving up hours every weekend to take part in the class, she would like to be spending class time actually learning to Apparate rather than listening to the back-and-forth flirtation.

He ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair and she could nearly hear the sighs around her. Rose glanced at Tom from across the room and rolled her eyes. He met her gaze with his trademark smirk.

"I know you're all eager for your outing to Hogsmeade, so we'll end class early today."

A few students clapped appreciatively as the class began to trickle out of the room. Rose fought her way through the crowd to Tom. She stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. "That was bloody excruciating," she said. "I can't wait until we can just take the test and get this class over it."

He smirked in agreement. "Mr. Pollack will have nothing to look forward to when it's over; what will he do without the constant affections from every sixth-year girl at Hogwarts?"

"Not _every_ sixth-year girl," she corrected him with her own smirk. They began walking toward the exit, where Loretta and Emily were waiting for her. "I wish you could come to Hogsmeade with us," she said sadly. It would have been their first opportunity to go as a couple, but Tom was put on prefect duty.

"Next time," he promised. "I have to get a few things done after I've finished my rounds anyway."

She wondered what those things were; they had done their homework together earlier that morning, so she didn't think it was anything related to class. In fact, their workload had lightened significantly as of late, but Tom somehow seemed busier than ever. Rose often wondered what he was doing, but never asked him. This was mostly in fear of seeming too nosy, or worse, clingy. She knew him well enough by now to know that he enjoyed his independence; certainly he would loathe any indication of having an overly possessive girlfriend.

"Well, I wish you a productive Saturday then." She smiled at him once more, dismissing the curiosities from her mind. "I'll see you later."

He returned her smile and gave a polite wave to her friends before turning to leave. She was disappointed that they wouldn't spend the afternoon and evening together, but knew it was good that she had the chance to catch up with Emily and Loretta. After her row with Faye, they were essentially her only friends and she didn't want them to feel as though she was constantly abandoning them for Tom.

"I'm so happy you dumped Markus for him," Emily sighed when he was out of earshot. "He's much more polite and not nearly as thick."

"Well that isn't exactly what happened…" Rosemary said. There had definitely been a solid month between the time she and Markus broke up and when she began going steady with Tom. The fact that Emily had ignored this discrepancy didn't come as much of a surprise to her. Springer was a notoriously poor listener and had a peculiar habit of altering any gossip she heard to her liking, all while seeming to forget the original story. The quizzical look on Emily's face convinced Rose that it was clearly one of those moments.

"Nevermind." Rose glanced at Loretta and rolled her eyes slightly. "Let's go."

It was a fifteen minute walk to The Three Broomsticks and it was packed when they arrived. Rose spoke briefly with Madam Lark, the pub's regular bartender, to add their names to the waiting list for a table. She rejoined the other two witches, who were outside smoking.

Rose took a cigarette from her own carton and brought it to her lips, igniting it without the use of her wand. It was a trick that Tom had taught her a little over a week ago and it had certainly taken a bit of practice. Wandless magic was no easy feat, after all.

Admittedly, she had done it in front of her friends to show off, and was rather annoyed when she looked up and realized they hadn't even noticed. They were too busy staring at Gil Pollack, who was immersed in a gaggle of girls. The group headed past them and went into The Three Broomsticks, presumably to add their name to the growing list as well.

"Bloody brilliant," Loretta sighed. "I _told _you we should have invited him." She turned to Rose to explain. "Emily thought it would be strange to ask him along." Throwing another glare at Emily, she added, "What was it you said? That he was too _professional_ to come out with a group of teenage girls?"

"Clearly you don't know men very well," Rose snorted, looking at Emily. What man in his early thirties _didn't _find it a thrill to be around teenage girls?

Their friend was not amused with their remarks: "Well_ sorry _that I didn't want to send the wrong message to Warren," she snapped.

"If this is about him, we definitely should've invited Gil. You could have made Cramer jealous!" Loretta pointed out.

Their conversation was brought to an abrupt halt when he and his posse of Hogwarts girls stepped outside to wait for their table. "Hello ladies," he greeted them with a confident smile that was full of perfectly straight, white teeth. He looked between the three of them and Rose couldn't help but notice that his eyes lingered on hers for a few uncomfortable milliseconds longer than the other two girls'. She greeted him politely in return and looked away, fixing her gaze on the cluster of shops in the distance.

Rose was aware of the fact that if Gil had looked at her that way some months ago she would have swooned for him. Now it seemed impossible to desire anyone but Tom, even in terms of faint, objective attraction. This was quite a dramatic change for her and she certainly hadn't anticipated it; after all, she had been quite a flirt in the past, even while she was dating Markus. Even so, she increasingly found that she much preferred the changes in her mind that Tom had brought about. Whenever she used to go out, she would always find herself competing to be the most desirable girl in the room. Now she only cared about Tom's opinion and there was a definite sense of security in that.

Her thoughts quickly dissipated as she looked up and was completely horrified at what she saw: Loretta was standing close to Gil, reaching up to feel his scarf while his posse of the other Hogwarts girls stared daggers at her. "This is _so soft_," Rose heard Loretta say. "Did you get it at Ralston's in Diagon Alley?"

Rose had to give her credit; Loretta knew a remarkable amount about clothing. But did she really feel the need to throw herself at him? In that moment, it was rather mortifying to be associated with her. Gil chortled, clearly loving the attention. "Yes, it's from Ralston's. Very impressive Miss Ashcroft." He offered her a cigarette and she took it, even though she had just finished her own.

Finally, Rose heard Madam Lark call her name: "Horton, party of three!"

_Let's make it two and leave Loretta with her new flame,_ Rose thought.

"That's us!" Loretta batted her eyelashes at Gil and tossed a smile over her shoulder. "We'll see you later Gil."

"You made a complete fool of yourself," Emily said sharply as they were seated at their table.

"You're just upset that you ruined your chance to make Warren jealous." Loretta dismissed her with a wave of her hand.

Madam Lark looked at the two of them impatiently, her mouth following the path of her frown lines that had undoubtedly been formed by years of dealing with drunken prats. Rosemary had already ordered a Butterbeer while Springer and Ashcroft carried on their spat. They requested two Butterbeers as well, each of them looking slightly embarrassed.

The bartender left to fetch their drinks and the three witches scanned the pub, waving at the students they recognized. Rose followed Emily's trance-like gaze and saw that Warren was sitting at a table with a few of his Ravenclaw Quidditch teammates.

"You're right," Springer whined in a defeated voice. "We should have invited Gil so I could make him jealous."

Madam Lark brought their Butterbeer and Rosemary paid for the round. It wasn't unlike her to flaunt her family's wealth at times; though the pompousness was certainly a fault of hers, she was proud of where she came from. Even if her family couldn't be considered close-knit, they_ were_ still her family.

The other two witches thanked her before returning to the matter at hand. "Have you spent time with him since the Ball?" Rose asked.

"Barely. He's always busy!"

Judging from all the times that Rose had seen him lounging around Hogwarts, she didn't think this was the case, but she bit her tongue and said nothing. It initially surprised her that Warren seemed to be avoiding Emily, but it began to make sense the more she thought about it. Emily had always been a bit awkward around boys and this was quite the opposite of Warren's easy-going demeanor. In fact, the discomfort between them had been nearly palpable at the Sweethearts Ball. Perhaps she hadn't thought anything of it until now because she had been so wrapped up in Tom that night to truly process much else.

Rose wasn't sure what to say; should she encourage her friend even though the object of her affection seemed rather disinterested? Rose glanced at Loretta, who was giving her a look that suggested she was on the same page.

They were distracted from the dilemma with Emily as an all-too-familiar group suddenly entered The Three Broomsticks. "Oh, bloody perfect." Rosemary let out a long exhale and told herself to stay calm, composed, and lady-like.

The girls watched as Markus and Adam walked through the pub, with Rebecca and Faye filing in behind them. "How did they get seated already?" Loretta asked. "Gil and the other girls are still waiting outside."

The group of four approached a table of a few third-year Gryffindor students. Rose couldn't hear what was said over the noise of the packed pub, but she did see the third-years' scared looks as they suddenly got up and headed for the exit. Clearly, they had bullied the younger students into giving their seats away. "Oh," Loretta said; the scene had answered her question for them all.

"How nice," Rose scowled. "It's good to know they can't even pretend to have any semblance of decency." She was still throwing a dirty look their way when Faye suddenly glanced up in their direction. They locked eyes for a moment, and Rose's glare intensified, challenging her ex-best friend to shoot her one in return. Instead, Faye tossed her a satisfied smirk that made her anger grow even stronger. Rose looked away as Faye slid into the seat next to Adam with her back toward them.

"On the bright side, we don't have to pretend to like her anymore. It's a bit of a comfort," Emily began. "As far as I'm concerned, she became an entirely different person the moment she began dating Lestrange."

Rose nodded, attempting to remain calm and took a sip of her Butterbeer.

"I just don't understand. You didn't act like that with Markus, or Tom," she said to Rose

"Let's not speak of it further," Rose said. Her temper was flaring dangerously and she wanted to extinguish it before she got out of her chair and did or said something to Faye she might regret. "She's not worth dwelling on."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before a mischievous smile spread across Loretta's face. "Well, perhaps you can help us settle a little wager we've made."

"Oh yes! The wager!" Emily clapped her hands together in excitement.

"What is it?"

"It's about how far things have…progressed," Loretta said carefully, her smile still dancing on her face.

"What?" Rose was clearly missing something.

"You and Tom!" Emily hit her arm playfully. "You've given absolutely no details!"

_Oh._ Rosemary rolled her eyes at their curiosity of her love life. But who was she kidding? She loved the attention. It wasn't very lady-like to kiss and tell, of course, but at least she could trust Loretta and Emily not to tell the entire school.

"I mean, you've snogged, right?" Loretta smirked.

"Obviously! You saw us kiss today after Apparition Lessons!"

"A peck on the lips is _not_ snogging." Emily crossed her arms across her chest.

"Yes," Rosemary sighed, "we've snogged…_Many_ times."

"Well excuse us for starting small," Loretta said sassily. "Tom Riddle isn't exactly known as a sybarite…Well, as far as we know anyway…" She raised her eyebrow suggestively. "He's so mysterious that I wouldn't be surprised if he's had a secret lover or two that none of us knows about."

"I-I don't know," Rose stuttered, losing her composure. It made her sick to her stomach to think of Tom with anyone else.

Emily must have detected her discomfort because she quickly resumed their interrogation game. "Okay, next question: have you seen him starkers?"

"No," Rose said hastily. _Unfortunately_, she added mentally.

"Has he seen _you_ starkers?"

Her instant blush and hesitation to respond was a dead giveaway.

"You owe me a forty of Ogden's Old!" Emily gloated to Loretta.

"I should have known that our little Rosemary Horton would try to corrupt him," Loretta teased, shaking her head back and forth slightly. "Undressing for Mr. Riddle…tsk, tsk."

Emily sipped the foam from her Butterbeer and looked equally amused. "It's so odd to think of Tom Riddle even snogging anyone. I mean, it had to happen sometime; every girl at Hogwarts has had a crush on him at some point. But he was always so serious!"

It always felt odd whenever someone brought up the fact that basically every girl in Hogwarts had fancied Tom. She knew it was true; hell, she knew it was true long before _she _had fallen for him. But, until that fateful year, everyone's attraction toward him was something she had merely accepted at face value; it was as common to see girls blush as he passed by in the hall as it was to see dew on her windowsill in the morning. To her, Tom had always only been Markus' unfailingly courteous, overachieving friend and occasionally a source of competition when it came to classwork. Oh, how things had changed; her stomach fluttered pleasantly at the thought.

"Faye didn't seem to like him very much," Rose pointed out.

Emily rolled her eyes. "She was probably just jealous. I'm sure she knew that you were bound to receive a loads of attention as soon as you went steady."

Loretta chimed in once more: "So he's a virgin, right?" It reminded Rose of the comment regarding his potential 'secret lovers' and she became instantly irritable.

"I don't know," Rose snapped, "and if I did, I wouldn't tell you because it's really none of your business."

"Sorry," Loretta said, clearly sensing her annoyance. "Does he know that you and Markus…?"

"I'm sure he assumes as much," Emily interrupted to point out, as though Rose wasn't there to speak for herself. "They were dating for more than two years, after all."

It was something that Rose hadn't thought much on before their comments, primarily because she didn't know that it was something people had assumed about her. In fact, she and Markus _hadn't _gone that far. Not even close, in fact. It was like there was always something pulling her back; she had known all along she didn't love him that way and it just felt momentously wrong to share her first time with him. At least she could always play it off as though she wished to wait until they were married.

It bothered her quite a bit, knowing that Tom probably assumed the same thing her friends did. Was that why he hadn't taken things further with her? Rose wondered if it bothered him to think about and she tried to think of a way to clear up the misconception without making things too uncomfortable between them. Or, even worse, perhaps it actually didn't bother him at all because _he _had already gone all the way with someone. She knew that it would plague her mind until she could uncover the truth, but didn't feel as though they had progressed to the point where they were comfortable enough to discuss sex outright.

She hoped she could force herself to put it to rest for the time being; there was no use worrying about it if their snogging sessions stuck to the same pace for a while. Sure, he had triggered her orgasm for the first time a couple of weeks before, but that didn't mean they were ready to go all the way. Rose didn't mind. It was rather nice that he seemed to want to take things slow, which was quite different from Markus' constant pressuring when they were together.

A subject change soon took place and the three girls launched into the other gossip at Hogwarts. Rosemary was having a nice time with them, but even through her anger at Faye, she knew it wasn't nearly as fun as it would have been with her best friend. It made her reminiscent and gloomy, and for the first time a startling thought occurred to her: what if they didn't make up from this fight?

Of course, Rose and Faye had been several through little spats here and there over the years, but this seemed different somehow. Faye seemed resolved and quite happy to leave her Ravenclaw friends behind her. She had expected Faye to apologize for her betrayal and friendship with Rebecca, but there was a nagging thought in her head that told her that this wasn't going to happen. Rose felt as though a heavy weight were sinking inside her at the thought.

She withdrew from the conversation with Loretta and Emily, staring down at her Butterbeer. Memories of the past six and a half years flowed through her mind. She remembered the first time she had met Faye, on Platform 9 ¾. Their parents had gone to Hogwarts together and hadn't seen each other for years, so they were busy catching up. The first thing Faye said to her was that she liked Rose's hair. Rosemary remembered thinking that because of the girl's outgoing nature, she would probably make a lot of friends. Rose had always been quite shy and had thought it would be a smart move to tag along; perhaps she too would make some friends by association.

After a somewhat sappy goodbye from their parents, they had boarded the Hogwarts Express and found a compartment together. Rose felt herself open up to the young blonde witch slowly over the course of the train ride, and by the time they reached Hogwarts, they were giggling and talking incessantly. Then there was the sorting; Rose hoped they would be placed in the same house because they had hit it off so well and she couldn't believe her luck when they were both chosen for Ravenclaw. Soon after, she had introduced Faye to Markus, one of her few childhood friends. Through Markus they had met Adam, Tom, and many of their other Slytherin friends. As much as Rose loathed admitting it, it was because of Faye's outgoing personality that Rosemary had gained the confidence to begin developing her own extroversion. It started to become easier and easier for Rose to make friends, and soon she was as outgoing as Faye was.

They got closer with Emily and Loretta during their third year and spent more time with the Slytherin boys when Rose and Markus began dating. She remembered the first time they had gotten drunk and how much of a disaster it had been: Faye had wasted her first kiss on Bobby Tove, a rather unattractive beater for the Slytherin Quidditch team, who was a year or two older. She had been such a wreck about it that Rose couldn't bring herself to tease her. The night had been a bit of a fiasco for Rose as well: five shots in and she had gotten terribly ill. She remembered sitting on the floor of the lavatory with Faye, attempting to comfort her in the aftermath of the kiss between fits of her own retching. The next morning, each of them had sworn never to speak of the night again.

A year later, during the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup final match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin, they had been exiled from their own stands for wearing green and silver in support of the other house. They had found it hilarious at the time, even though their entire house didn't speak to them for a few weeks after Slytherin won.

Especially in the beginning, it was always Faye and Rose. Everyone else was merely an acquaintance. She was her partner in crime as well as the closest thing Rose ever had to a sister. Rosemary supposed that slowly, over the years, they had started to grow apart. Perhaps this was her own fault; Rose seemed to accumulate more and more secrets, especially when she was dating Markus. She was so used to putting on a phony, happy appearance around him that she had forgotten how to display the one underneath to her closest friend. As she reflected on this, it occurred to her that maybe Faye also felt betrayed after being left out of all Rosemary's secrets. Still, that didn't excuse what _she _did: befriending Rebecca and voicing her judgmental comments of Rose's new relationship. Regardless of how it really happened, everything they had built felt shattered. Their friend groups had split entirely; it wasn't at all what she had had in mind for this year.

She was beginning to feel quite ill from all the nostalgia. "I'm not feeling well," she told the other girls. "I'm going to head back to Hogwarts. You're free to finish this off." She gestured to her half-finished Butterbeer.

"Suit yourself," Loretta shrugged.

"Do feel better. We'll let you know if they decide to terrorize any other third years," Emily said, nodding her head slightly in the direction of Faye's table.

Her stomach turned. "I'd rather you didn't." She forced herself to smile at Springer and Ashcroft. "Well, this was quite fun. I'll see you both later." Rose excused herself and headed to the exit, glancing over her shoulder at Faye one last time before walking out the door. Faye had turned her head toward her at the last moment and they made eye contact once more. This time, Rose was too sad to even attempt the threatening glare she had flashed before. She was somewhat surprised when Faye looked back at her with an equally blank look. It made her feel irrationally hopeful, as though they were sharing the same, reminiscing thoughts. Rose turned away in disappointment, knowing that this couldn't be; Faye was not one to bother with reflection, after all.

* * *

"_Nostalgia: it's delicate, but potent … In Greek, 'nostalgia' literally means 'the pain from an old wound.' It's a twinge in your heart far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn't a spaceship, it's a time machine. It goes backwards, and forwards … it takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It's not called the wheel, it's called the carousel. It lets us travel the way a child travels — around and around, and back home again, to a place where we know are loved." – Matthew Weiner_

* * *

**So, a few important updates! First of all, as I'm sure you noticed, I'm going to put each chapter quote at the bottom from now on instead of at the top; I think it just makes wayy more sense this way. I'll probably go through and edit the other chapters with this change as well.**

**Also, I _was_ planning on updating every Thursday and Sunday, but I'm kind of leaning against that now. I've been writing chapters much faster than I've been publishing and I'd rather just publish as I finish each one. I think it will help to keep me really in tune with what's happening in the story so I don't get carried away with future chapters and whatnot. Plus, if I write too far ahead, it will become more difficult to adapt to feedback, which is ALWAYS appreciated, by the way!(:**

**Thank you to NoneOfYourBusiness101, silverfox1611, and danceegirl92 for your reviews!**

**I know there wasn't much of Tom in this chapter, but I wanted to spend some time on Rose since I gave Tom _his_ own chapter. The next chapter will be split between the two of them again, like usual!(:**


	17. Part I - Room of Requirement

Room of Requirement

_March 24, 1944_

"Try moving your hand in more of a semi-circle," he told her.

She gave him a look of exasperation. "But I hit the target!"

"Do you want to learn to haphazardly throw curses or _duel_?" he asked her pointedly.

Rose sighed in frustration. "…I want to learn to duel," she replied begrudgingly. He was right; Tom was _always _right. Clearly he knew that her perfectionism would get the best of her and she would have wished she learned it right the first time anyway. Still, her desire to become better at dueling was hindered with a feeling of hopelessness. Tom was a wonderful teacher, but she was genuinely terrible at everything they tried and it made her quite insecure to show him this weakness in her magical ability. At least he was patient; significantly more so than she had anticipated, in fact.

For the past three Fridays, they had spent the afternoon in the Room of Requirement practicing her technique. He had even convinced her to begin coming to Dueling Club to observe after they finished for the evening, promising that he would make sure that she was never put on the spot and forced into a match. Admittedly, it was much more enjoyable to watch him teach others; it always gave her such pride to see him in such a mentoring role with their peers.

Tom conjured a new target and gave her a small, encouraging smile. Rose raised her wand and fired another spell across the room. This time it missed the target entirely, ricocheting off of the various objects around them. They ducked down quickly until the spell hit an armchair in the corner and caused it to burst into flames. He stood, one corner of his mouth twitching in a clear attempt to keep a straight face, and muttered an extinguishing spell.

"This is hopeless!" she cried in defeat. "I give up, I cannot do this!"

Any hint of a smile disappeared from his face as he walked over to her. "You're not giving up," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Why?" she whined. "Let's just go to the library or take a walk around the lake!"

"You're _not _giving up," he repeated. "Would you like to know why? You're Rosemary Horton and you are the most clever, tenacious person I've ever met. You settle for nothing inferior to your best effort. And you should know that _I _won't settle for anything inferior to your best effort either."

Why did he say these things to her, forcing her heart to flutter so mercilessly? Rose reflected on the fact that she was so lucky to have him and finally gave him a small smile.

"That's it," he said. He spun her around so she was facing the target once more. She raised her wand and this time he stood close behind her, leaning down so his lips were next to her ear. He ran his hand down her extended arm and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. She let him guide her hand in a very slight circle. "There. You see?"

Rose nodded. He removed his hand from her and stepped back, careful not to disturb her form. She replicated the precise motion he had shown her and fired the spell; this time, she hit the target square in the chest. She spun around and beamed at him and he was smiling proudly back at her.

"Excellent!" he said. "Let's do it again."

He conjured a few more targets and eventually progressed to a moving version. She focused on one at a time, taking out each one by employing the small wrist movement he had shown her.

"Pretty soon you'll be showing off to the dueling club," Tom smirked, shaking his head slightly.

Rose lowered her wand and said modestly, "I don't know about _that_." Sure, she was quite proud of her own progress, but she didn't deem herself anywhere near prepared enough to perform in front of his seasoned club members.

"Well you're catching on quite quickly."

Rose smiled and strode over to him, tossing her arms around his neck and pulling their bodies close together. "That's just because I have such a good teacher." They stood like that for a moment; meanwhile, her thoughts strayed from dueling and became increasingly physical in nature. "I think that was a good note to end on, don't you?"

He gave a small shrug. "It's up to you. We have well over two hours before Dueling Club begins."

She brought her face close enough to his that their lips brushed together as she spoke: "I can think of a few things we can do in a couple of hours. It's not as though we have to worry about any disturbances here." She wondered briefly why neither of them had thought to suggest the room as a snogging location before.

"Quite right." His hands squeezed her hips as he pressed his mouth against hers. She kissed him back hungrily and he pushed her backwards onto an old, decrepit couch that emitted a puff of dust as she sat. Tom kept kissing her, appearing not to notice.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a spider crawl up from one of the cushions; she hastily pushed him off of her and leapt away. Rose had been afraid of spiders ever since she was five; Markus used to make her watch as he picked the legs off of them. She remembered their unpleasant writhing vividly.

Tom gave her a puzzled look and she merely pointed to the tiny, black creature scampering across the frayed fabric. "You're afraid of _that_?"

"I had a few bad experiences as a child," she said defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You are full of surprises, Rosemary Horton." He gave her an amused smirk.

"Let's find a piece of furniture that _isn't_ ancient and infested with bugs." Rose took his hand and led him around the vast room, searching for a chair or couch that would be a bit more romantic.

Finally, she spotted a reasonably decent-looking chair. "You first," she said, pushing him down onto it.

"Afraid there will be another spider?" he teased, pulling her so that she was standing between his legs.

"Perhaps. At least this way it will have to crawl all over you first before it gets to me."

Tom smirked. "Well, aren't you thoughtful..." His fingers traveled up the back of her legs and came to rest where her skin met her thigh-high stockings. Rose smiled before leaning down a bit to kiss him.

She loved snogging him so very much. Every time she saw him, she was struck with the same feeling of disbelief: how had she never thought of him physically until this year? She couldn't think of a single part of him that wasn't attractive. Even his _posture_ made her want him. Their Charms class was especially torturous; not because of the subject matter, but because their assigned seats made it so she sat directly behind him. Rose was forced to admire his handsome shoulders and dark hair all class, forbidden to act on any of her desires. The class had been nearly unbearable before they confessed their feelings for each other; at least now she could have her hands on him whenever she liked when they were outside the classroom.

Tom kissed her hungrily and intertwined his tongue with hers. She pushed him against the back of the chair and climbed on top of him, straddling herself over his legs. Rose made a mental note that he seemed to enjoy the position, judging from the way he met her lips with even more passion and let his hands roam beneath her skirt. He reached behind her with one hand, lightly tracing the spot between her legs with his fingers.

She felt him touch her ankle so lightly that she could barely feel it. "That tickles."

"This?" He touched her between her legs once more.

"No, no…on my-" She turned to look at her ankle and screamed: "Oh, Merlin! Get it off me! Get it off me!" There was an alarmingly large spider that had progressed to her calf. He quickly brushed it off of her and she hopped off the chair shaking out her hair and clothes. "Ugh! I feel like they're all over me!"

"Stop moving for a moment-"

Rose saw his eyes travel down to her jumper and she immediately began scrambling to get it off her. "Shit! Is there another one?! Don't just sit there, do something!" She glanced up with a helpless, panicked look to see that he was still sitting there coolly, now with a smirk spread across his face. Her mouth fell open as she realized he had tricked her. "I can't believe you would do that," she huffed, pulling her jumper back over her head.

He simply laughed, which did not improve her mood in the slightest, and strode over to her, putting a piece of her disheveled hair back into place. She smacked his hand away and glared up at him. "I'm sorry," he told her, even though he was still smiling. "That was cruel of me."

She said nothing and continued to scowl.

"Want to try and find another piece of furniture?" he teased. "Third time's the charm…"

"No. In fact, I think it would be best if I return to my dormitory for the day." She crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him defiantly.

"Really?" He stepped closer and bent his neck so he could whisper in her ear. His voice was cocky and arrogant and she loved it. His confidence was one of the most attractive things about him. "You see, I thought it might be rather enjoyable to see what other forms the Room of Requirement had to offer."

If she were any less vulnerable to his allure, her willpower may have won. Rose looked up at him and softened her glare a bit in response to his suggestion. He seemed to register her answer almost immediately, smiling in satisfaction, and leading her out of the room.

She waited in the corridor, keeping watch for any passersby. Tom walked back and forth in front of the wall three times before the door reappeared. He took her hand and led her aside; she couldn't help but be impressed by what she witnessed. In a display of its sublime magic, the room had shifted to seductively dim lighting and featured piles and piles of pillows and blankets that were scattered about for their apparent choosing. A large bed was in the middle of the room and it looked significantly finer than any of the furniture she had seen in the previous version of the Room of Requirement. Suddenly, she seemed to forget all about her agitation with him.

"Come." Tom extended his hand toward her and she took it. He led her to the bed, past the giant mounds of pillows and blankets. Before he kissed her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and said, "I hope you find this suitable."

"Certainly. What exactly did you request?"

"I requested a place that would impress my lovely companion; where nothing would disturb us." He paused and a smirk spread across his face. "Including spiders."

* * *

Tom watched her eyes as they seemed to dance with happiness at his words. It made him feel tremendously content to know that she was satisfied. She allowed a small laugh to escape her lips and he yearned for a way to capture the heavenly sound, to play it again and again whenever he pleased. He sat on the bed and kissed her, pulling her so she was standing between his legs once more. She playfully bit his bottom lip and a wonderful shiver traveled down his spine in response. His fingers inched themselves beneath the hem of her skirt, feeling the warm flesh of her legs.

Their kissing grew increasingly passionate and Rose pushed him onto his back, removing her jumper before climbing on top of him. She pressed herself against him in a way that was addictively torturous. Once again, he would have to force himself to neglect his intrinsic urges for her. It was rather inconvenient that everything she did seemed to be a direct challenge to his resolve. He could allow losing himself in her affections for only moments at a time.

Tom closed his eyes and ran his hands up and down her shirtless back, admiring the smoothness of her skin. She kissed his face and neck and before he knew it, he too was without a shirt. Her delicate fingers slid over his chest; they seemed to leave microscopic tingles in their wake. Rose's hips gyrated in a rhythm against his and it required all of his remaining willpower to keep himself from flipping her over and pinning her down as he had his way with her. As the days passed, it was becoming harder and harder for him to wait. He longed to be as close to her as he possibly could.

But the passing time had also forced him to uncover additional reasons _not_ to take things further. Lestrange's comments weeks before had reminded him that she had already slept with Avery. It was a fact that he could not seem to shake; it lurked in the back of his mind at all times when he was with her. Slowly, he had remembered the remarks Avery used to make to Lestrange, bragging about her exceptional prowess. Knowing that she had been with someone else made him sick; remembering the explicit details as they were told by Avery was even worse. Not to mention the fact that all of Hogwarts surely knew about her lack of sexual purity as well.

He felt foolish that none of this had occurred to him while he was in the process of falling for her. Perhaps it was simply that he had underestimated the potential depth of his feelings. Now he knew that he desired her in the most intimate of ways: he wanted to possess her, to make her undeniably and irrevocably _his_. It was difficult to reconcile that because of her past, this could never be: she could never be entirely his if she had shared such an intimate connection with another.

Even with all this weighing on his mind, he _still _couldn't keep himself from exploring her. She was his temptress, luring him closer and closer with their unyielding attraction. It was as though every atom of his body could find a match with hers. Tom looked into her blue eyes, drowning his worrisome thoughts in them before running his hands through her hair and kissing her forcefully. When the kiss broke, they were both breathing heavily. His desire to take control of her was beginning to take over; he flipped her over and moved her toward the top of the bed so her head was resting on the pillows. Tom's body hovered above hers for a moment. Although they weren't touching, he could feel the heat radiate from her skin. He rested there for a moment, attempting to decide which part of her he would touch first as she looked up at him eagerly.

It was quite attractive to see the longing on her face, the lustful gaze that begged him to touch her most forbidden areas. He frequently thought that he might enjoy forcing her to verbally plead for it and withhold his touch until her words satisfied him. But it would have to wait for another time; he had far too little self-control to even attempt such a feat at the moment.

Tom allowed his hand to glide down her body and trace the wet spot that had formed in her knickers. It was a mistake to feel her there: the willpower preventing himself from relishing her was diminishing rapidly. She let out one of her delicious moans and gave him a mischievous smirk.

Before he could ponder the cause of the smirk, she was unbuttoning his trousers and reaching into them. He could have stopped her. In fact, he was going to – until her fingers gently stroked his member for the first time. Tom breathed in sharply and looked at her, still smirking back up at him. Then she sat up and pulled on the waist of his trousers, indicating that she wanted him to slide them off.

He stood and obeyed her. For the first time, he was entirely naked in front of her. She looked him up and down and he felt self-conscious for a moment, but the way she bit her lip and smiled seductively at him in response reassured him. Then she followed suit, sliding off her skirt and undergarments. Rose took his hand and pulled him back on the bed. He laid on his back and she sidled up to his body, lying on her side to face him. She began by trailing his lips along his jaw and neck.

Was this the moment, the time he had been waiting for? Would they finally give each other themselves in this way? Thankfully, his mind was now entirely blank of thoughts of her with Avery. He closed his eyes and waited for her to press her opening down on top of him, but the time never came. Instead, her hand traveled slowly down his stomach, moving further and further toward his basically throbbing member. Finally, she wrapped her hand around it and began stroking him up and down. Her touch was by far the strongest sensation he had ever felt in the area; it significantly bypassed his own previous efforts to satisfy his cravings for her. He emitted a low groan which seemed only to encourage her. She moved her hand faster and it drove him mad with pleasure. He wanted to reach down and play with her in return, but felt as though he had been rendered immobile for the time being.

Rose kissed him, slithering her tongue into his mouth. It was all quite a bit for him to handle and he felt himself begin to grow close to his climax already. He felt as though she had only been touching him for a couple of minutes at most, but he had lost track of time entirely. He tried to pull himself back, attempting to fill his mind with thoughts that might discourage his release, but he could think of nothing but Rose and everything he was feeling.

He simply couldn't take it anymore; he gave into the inevitable climax that she had caused, feeling it spread across his body. A feeling of complete calm filled his head and he finally opened his eyes to see her smiling back at him. She kissed his cheek before standing to retrieve a nearby blanket, dabbing the bed around them to clean up. As he watched her naked body, he thought he should thank her, but every part of him felt heavy and lethargic, as though it would take a day's worth of effort to part his lips and speak two words. Rose climbed back into the bed beside him and rested her pretty head on her hand. A small smile in her direction was all he could seem to manage at the moment.

Thankfully, she was the first to speak: "Did you like it?"

He was surprised at the way she had asked: modestly, as though she was truly unsure. Tom didn't understand how this could be; after all, it was he that had been so worried he had in some way disappointed her by finishing too early. "Certainly," he turned on his side to face her and kissed her forehead. "Couldn't you tell?"

She laughed and it was the first time he had seen her laugh so nervously. "I suppose." She paused before continuing. "I just wanted to make sure because I've never gone that far with anyone before."

It took a few moments for her words to sink in; if they were true, then she hadn't done nearly as much with Avery as he had indicated and all of Tom's worries were null. "You haven't?" he asked.

Apparently, she had somehow guessed his train of thought. "No…Markus and I only ever snogged, nothing more."

Tom was hit with a few waves of emotions: first disbelief, then relief, then anger at Avery for bragging about his nonexistent escapades. "I see," he stammered, attempting to recover from the initial shock of her confession.

"I apologize; I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable by saying anything. I suppose I just wanted you to know."

He seemed to regain his composure and tried to reassure her. "I do hope you'll trust that I am most certainly _not_ disappointed in this news. Quite the opposite, really."

She gave him a small smile, but still looked as though she wished to say something.

Tom touched her cheek softly. "Is something bothering you?"

"Well, I was just wondering if _you've _gone this far before?" He had never heard her sound quite so nervous.

It took him a moment to respond, simply because the possibility that she might wonder the same about him had never crossed his mind. "No," he assured her.

She looked enormously relieved. Tom rested his head on the pillow beneath it, allowing everything to sink in once more. He had spent so much time worrying about her apparent breadth of experience and his lack thereof. "I didn't bring this up before because I didn't want to rush into things," she continued.

He nodded at her, feeling closer with her than ever before. They were finally on the same page entirely and it felt quite wonderful. Unfortunately, this happy moment with Rose was short-lived; she had glanced at the nearby clock and told him he only had twenty minutes before Dueling Club began. Rose stood and began to dress; finally, he joined her, sliding on his clothes and wishing he could have spent the entire day in bed with their naked bodies pressed against each other.

They arrived hand-in-hand in the Great Hall, where the majority of the club had already gathered. Fortunately, Antonin Dolohov– a Slytherin that was a year younger and served as second in command of Dueling Club– had taken it upon himself to set up the tables. Rose released his hand and he walked to the front of the crowd, waiting for a few last students to trickle in.

"Good afternoon," he greeted them all. "Today we'll be working on a few new offensive spells. I'll demonstrate with…" Tom scanned the room, choosing the sorry bloke he would most enjoy firing spells at. He had to get his anger out _somehow_ and his role as Captain of the Dueling Club certainly allowed him to indulge these impulses from time to time; it was one of the best perks of the position. His eyes rested on Avery; he was reminded of the truth Rose had just revealed and how angry it had made him at his fellow Slytherin. Tom felt his anger boiling within him, thrashing eagerly for the manifestation that was soon to come. "...Avery," he said coolly.

* * *

"_Thou art to me a delicious torment." – Ralph Waldo Emerson_

* * *

**Hey everyone! I'm sorry if there are some typos in this chapter; my computer screen is all sorts of messed up and I have to wait a few days to get it replaced. :/**

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**I've been trying to make the chapters a bit longer while also trying to churn out new chapters relatively quickly. Any thoughts on that? What's more important: frequent updates or longer chapters?**

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	18. Part I - Reconciliation and Retribution

Reconciliation and Retribution

_March 31, 1944_

Rose lounged on her bed, flipping through her notes and feeling perfectly content. As Friday had finally arrived, her plans were to join Loretta and Emily for dinner in the Great Hall in a little while and meet up with Tom in the Room of Requirement when he finished his Prefect rounds. Her dueling abilities had improved markedly, thanks to their weekly practices.

She smiled to herself when she thought of him; their relationship had bloomed into something even better than she had anticipated. With him, she could relax entirely and felt a sense of complete belonging. She couldn't help but remember the restless feeling she had felt with Avery; whenever she was with him, she had always felt as though there were some other place that she should be instead.

Her pleasant thoughts came to an abrupt halt when Faye entered the dormitory. Rose ignored her completely and returned to her notes. This had become their longest fight by far and it seemed as though a chance of reconciliation was nowhere in sight.

But, perhaps, this thought had been premature; Faye suddenly strode over to her and stood at the foot of her bed. "Rosemary, I can't take this anymore. We haven't spoken in weeks."

She could feel herself becoming weak at the words; she _did_ want desperately to have her friend back, even though she was still angry. But Rose forced herself not to look up and to keep her eyes fixated at the parchment between her fingertips; if they were to reconcile, it would have to be on her terms. Rose could feel Faye's expectant gaze on her, but she was not one to apologize when she didn't mean it.

"Well?" Rose asked with a feisty tone, still refusing to look up.

"Fine, Rosie. I'm sorry for the things I said to you and I'm sorry for befriending Orion. I miss my dearest friend. Things aren't nearly as much fun without you around." Rose finally looked up and Faye offered her a small smile.

Rose was finally satisfied upon hearing the apology and the tears that she saw forming in the corners of Faye's eyes told her that it was genuine. Admittedly, she was still hurt by the remarks and the situation with Rebecca, but her desire to make amends had outweighed her anger. She returned the smile with her own and set down her notes. "I miss you too, Faye." She moved to the end of her bed and they exchanged a short hug.

"We have _so much _to catch up on!"

Each time they recovered from a fight, Rosemary was astounded by how quickly things seemed to return to normal. Perhaps it was simply a testament to the depths of their friendship. "We do," she nodded.

"How are you and Tom? I want to hear everything," Faye asked excitedly.

Rose rolled her eyes. "You don't have to pretend you like him. I know you don't."

She put up her hands defensively. "I'll admit that perhaps I didn't give him a fair chance. Adam seems to really respect him. I suppose the only thing I've ever had against him is the fact that he seemed immune to having a good time."

"Oh, perfect, so you value your boyfriend's opinion, but not mine."

"Don't be like that," her friend responded softly. "It's just that it's easy to think someone is perfect when you're falling for them. Obviously it gives you a bit of a biased opinion. Besides, it was plain shocking, with you and Markus ending and starting a relationship with Tom so soon after. I had no idea that you weren't happy with him…In fact, I was surprised that you didn't try to work things out after he told you about Rebecca."

Rose shrugged. "I didn't love him."

"Do you love _Tom_?" Faye asked, her eyes gleaming with eagerness to obtain the secrets she had missed.

"Yes." She couldn't keep herself from smiling; it was what happened every time she thought of him.

"Oh, Rose, that is so sweet. I think most people, myself included, are still surprised to see Tom Riddle in a relationship. Have your parents met him? I'm sure they'll be impressed."

"Not yet. I'd like him to visit during Easter vacation, but I haven't spoken to him about it yet. I'm sure he has plans with his own family." Even so, Rose made a mental note to bring it up to him later.

"I _am _happy for you, Rose. It's obvious how much you care for him." She sighed. "I have to say, things with Adam are equally splendid."

Rose doubted that anyone could be as happy as she was with Tom, but refrained from making a comment on the matter. "That's good to hear."

Faye nodded happily and then her face brightened even more. "I've just had the most fabulous idea: let's have one of our grand soirees in the Slytherin common room tonight to celebrate our amends. We can get everyone together and start fresh again."

Even though they had done it nearly a hundred times, it still felt rather ironic to host a party in the common room of a house they didn't belong to. Though the Slytherins –at least the male members of the house– didn't seem to mind very much. Rose didn't think about it much before responding; she doubted that Tom would mind as he had taken to drinking scotch quite often after she introduced it to him. "Yes, we should!"

Faye looked excited, but her face quickly darkened and she bit her lip. "This might be a poor time to discuss this, but I wouldn't feel right if we didn't invite Rebecca." Rose narrowed her eyes and she added, "I know you're angry with her, but really, she isn't nearly as annoying as we made her out to be."

"It was rather annoying when I found out she was sleeping with my boyfriend," Rose grumbled.

"You don't even have to speak with her, but she_ has_ been a friend to me for these past few weeks. She's even opened up to me a bit and told me that she'd like to talk to you. I'm sure she wants to apologize for the situation with Markus."

"Fine, invite her," Rose said. She knew that if she didn't agree to Faye's request, it would come off as petty and rather immature. Not to mention the fact that it would be difficult to keep Rebecca away from a party in the Slytherin common room. Besides, she was too happy to regain her friend to cause another fuss. "I doubt I'll be in the mood to speak with her though."

Faye nodded in understanding. "We should go down for dinner so I can let the others know our plans."

They left their dormitory and on their way to the Great Hall, they proceeded to catch up on all the gossip they hadn't gotten the chance to talk about. Rose felt several pairs of eyes watch them as they entered the cavernous room; now it was _they_ who were surely the subject of the school's gossip, at least amongst the students that knew of their fight. Two pairs of these eyes belonged to Loretta and Emily, who were already seated at the Ravenclaw table. Each of them were sporting a look of surprise.

"I'll see you later tonight! We'll say around ten or so?" Faye squealed in delight and pinched Rose's arm. "I'm so excited!"

Rose beamed and nodded. They parted ways as Faye headed to the Slytherin table to inform the others. She had thought just earlier that afternoon that she couldn't be more content, but her reunion with Faye had proven that she had clearly been mistaken. She truly seemed to have it all: the perfect boyfriend, stellar marks in all her classes, and now, her best friend. She was filled with optimism as well as a sense of security that things were more copacetic than ever before and she felt certain that they wouldn't be changing anytime soon.

She slid onto the bench across from Loretta and Emily, who were looking at her with their mouths gaping open. "Close your mouths ladies; it's unseemly," she said nonchalantly, as though nothing of note had taken place.

Loretta crossed her arms. "So I take it you and Donohue are on good terms again…"

Rose simply smiled up at her as she helped herself to a piece of chicken and a scoop of vegetables, placing them on the plate in front of her.

"Bloody hell, Rosemary. Now _we _have to be nice to her again." Emily threw up her hands in exasperation.

"No you don't," she pointed out.

"You're right, that wouldn't be uncomfortable at all," Loretta sarcastically replied.

Rose shrugged. She was too content to bother with their approval of the situation. Besides, as cruel as it may sound, she realized that Ashcroft and Springer had merely served as placeholder friends until she and Faye made amends.

Springer sighed. "Well, I can't even worry about Faye right now. I have some news of my own." She paused dramatically, waiting for the other two witches to implore her for the secret. After she was met with the disappointing silence of the other two witches, there was a certain twinge of annoyance in her voice: "Oh, I'm sorry I'm such a bore. I just thought you might like to know what Warren said to me today."

Loretta rolled her eyes. "What, did he ask to compare notes for Transfigurations again? Groundbreaking, Emily, really."

"_No_," she said in a snarky tone. It was odd how quickly it shifted to pure excitement the moment she began speaking again: "He asked if I'll be at the match against Slytherin tomorrow!"

Rose took another bite of chicken and inwardly cringed at her friend's excitement. It was normal for Warren to ask the entire _house_ if they were planning to attend the Quidditch matches. He _was_the Captain of Ravenclaw's team, after all. In fact, earlier in the week Warren had asked Rose if she were planning to go. She and Loretta exchanged knowing glances before glancing at their bubbling, naïve friend and back again. It was becoming rather clear that Warren simply did not have the same feelings for Emily, but how were they supposed to tell her that?

"I'm sure he will appreciate your support," Rose said politely, aiming to remain as blasé about his comment as possible so Emily might be discouraged from reading into it even more than she clearly already had.

Emily abruptly pushed her dinner plate away and said resolutely, "I should watch my figure more carefully for him."

Rose and Loretta exchanged yet another concerned glance.

It seemed like an eternity between leaving dinner and when Tom finally arrived on the seventh floor to meet her. She had been itching to inform him of the update regarding Faye and the party they were expected to attend later that evening. "How were your rounds?" she greeted him, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

"I turned in a couple of Gryffindor third years that looked as though they were up to no good. Other than that, rather uneventful," he shrugged.

Rose smirked at him. Tom had always been exceptionally strict toward the Gryffindor house when it came to his prefect duties. She couldn't criticize him for it, as she was also prone to abuse her power from time to time.

"You look as though you have something you'd like to tell me, though," he continued, giving her a curious look while they entered the Room of Requirement.

"As a matter of fact, I do! Faye and I have finally reconciled!"

"I see," he said evenly. Rose had expected him to be more surprised, but should have known better. Tom was rarely caught off-guard by anything and when he was, he didn't show it. Still, Rose was puzzled by his hesitation. She had her suspicions that he didn't like Faye, but shouldn't he at least pretend to be happy for her? "Was it you that apologized or-"

"No, no, it was Faye," she clarified hastily with a wave of her hand. Could that have been the cause of his reluctance? Had he just wanted to make sure that she maintained her position of power of the situation? This possibility didn't seem too far off; she knew that he was proud of the way that she had handled the situation, claiming the Slytherin common room as her territory. She knew because he had told her so. In the way they thought about that sort of thing, Tom and Rose were quite alike. She supposed this had something to do with their nearly inhuman level of pride and arrogance.

His satisfied expression upon hearing her words indicated that her hypothesis had been correct.

"I have to admit, I enjoyed catching up with her again. Perhaps we can try another double date with them on the next trip to Hogsmeade."

Tom gave a slight eye roll and noted sarcastically, "Yes, Madam Puddifoot's went so well the first time. Perhaps we can sit and talk about the weather once more."

"We'll try The Three Broomsticks instead." She playfully smacked his arm. "_Anyways_, I almost forgot! She and I decided to have a bit of a get-together with the Slytherin house this evening. Consider yourself cordially invited."

"How kind of you to invite me to my _own_ common room," he said dryly. "I don't suppose it will be an intoxicant-free get-together."

"What would give you that idea?" she smirked.

"Our Apparition Licensing test is tomorrow morning."

Admittedly, it had entirely slipped her mind in the merriment of regaining her oldest friendship. Even with Tom's reminder, though, her spirits were not dampened: the party would go on! "I'm not particularly worried." She waved her hand as though his concerns were floating in the air around them and she was trying to disperse them.

He gave her a disapproving look. It was rather funny that he was so reckless sometimes– like when he brought her to the Chamber of Secrets, for instance– and so conscientious of rules and obligations other times.

"Tom, you know there's nothing to fret over. You could just as well be _teaching_ the Apparition class." She watched as he considered this for a moment. Early in their relationship she had realized that the easiest way to win with him was to stroke his ego. This was quite easy for her, it turned out; she admired him in so many ways and as such, the compliments were honest and came naturally.

"Mr. Pollack _is_ a bit of a joke," Tom replied after a moment, a twitch of his lips revealing a small smile. "But really, Rosemary, your plans for tonight do not sound very responsible."

His disapproving tone bothered her; it reminded her of her parents and it made her even more dedicated to the idea of the party. "It's funny you mention that now and not earlier this week, when you ambushed me during my rounds on this very floor and pulled me into the Room of Requirement for a quick snog." Rose crossed her arms over her chest and he smiled at her sheepishly with a slight flush in his cheeks. It was one of those rare, wonderful moments where she caught him off-guard; she wished she could pause and savor it, but she was much too focused on the matter at hand. "_You_ don't even have to drink," she pointed out, but the words even sounded ridiculous to her own ears. She couldn't imagine attending a party without drinking. "Well, perhaps just one."

Tom sighed and shook his head. Finally, he voiced a defeated "Fine".

Rose kissed his cheek excitedly. "It will be splendid, you'll see!" She believed it herself, too, until she remembered a certain other person would be attending. "Faye told me that Orion wants to apologize to me."

Tom nodded slowly. He pulled out a bright green apple from the pocket of his robes and took a bite, staring into space as though he was contemplating her words. Rosemary eyed the apple disapprovingly, knowing that this would be his dinner. She worried about his eating habits, or lack thereof, quite frequently. Tom seemed not to notice her look and said thoughtfully: "Would you like my advice?"

She nodded. Once again, she found herself wishing that she could crawl inside his mind just to see how it all worked. She learned more about him every day, but it still seemed as though there were some things about him that she would never understand, including his thought process.

This was demonstrated for what seemed like the millionth time when he presented his straightforward advice: "Let her."

Rose gave him a puzzled look, trying to figure out his angle. She truly hoped it wasn't about to turn into a 'you should be the bigger person because it's moral' type of advice. Because of this, she dreaded the answer as soon as she asked the question: "Why?"

"It would be significantly more useful to you if she feels inferior rather than bitter towards you. Don't _accept _her apology; rather, allow her to manifest her remorse in ways that would be more…valuable." He paused and cupped her cheek in his hand. "In this way you can demonstrate your superiority. As such,I believe it would be highly imprudent not to capitalize on such a situation."

She certainly hadn't expected _that_ to be his advice; it wasn't something that had even remotely dawned on her. Admitting this to herself made her feel a queasy disappointment at her lack of resourcefulness on the matter. But then she remembered the mysterious wisdom in Tom that she so idolized and came to the realization that he, and only he, could have formulated such a proposal. It was that brilliant, gorgeously opportunistic, mind of his. Just when she thought her heart couldn't hold another particle of love for him, she fell even harder and deeper.

* * *

Compared to the average bloke, Tom knew he was exceptionally reflective. Even more so with the consumption of scotch, it seemed. And that night, he was doing quite a bit of reflecting.

The common room was overflowing with Slytherin students. Smoke from dozens of cigarettes made the air hazy and the two Ravenclaw girls were in the middle of it all. Tom watched as Rose and Faye played the parts of the perfect hostesses, ensuring that no one was without a drink in at _least_ one hand. He had to admit that the party they had thrown together in less than a day seemed rather impressive, though he wasn't sure if he could properly judge such a thing given that this was only the second party he had ever attended.

He had been stubborn with Rosemary earlier, but as he lounged on a couch in the corner of the room with a glass of scotched served neat in his hand, Tom realized it wasn't nearly as bad as he had anticipated. Observing his drunken peers was actually an excellent opportunity to discover secrets about them that could be exploited later for his own personal gain. In addition, seeing the drunken version of Rose was always quite entertaining.

As he watched her move from person to person, lighting up the room with her dazzling smile, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of possessiveness each time she spoke to one of his male classmates. Not that he had anything to worry about: he _did_ trust her intentions entirely and he knew that no one would dare to cross him by flirting with her. But he was selfish; he wanted her smile to be a pleasure that only he could receive. It was unfortunate that social decorum so frequently prevented his wish from becoming a reality.

He even felt this way when she spoke with _Avery _of all people. Clearly, there was nothing to be envious of there. Tom knew better than to think she had any residual feelings for him whatsoever. Still, it didn't mean he enjoyed seeing them speak to each other. Perhaps he felt more protective than envious, now that he knew Avery had lied about her sexual proficiency. It was odd that she didn't seem angrier about it, but then again Avery was one of her earliest friends and she had probably accepted the fact that he was a complete tosser ages ago.

In spite of the tragedy of watching as she wasted her lovely smile on such unworthy people, it was a tremendous relief to see her so elated. Sure, she had been plenty happy in the past few weeks, but the trace of sadness in her deep blue eyes was unmistakable. He was proud of her for refusing to give in and apologize first, but she had clearly missed Faye. While he wished she had a more impressive– or at least slightly less vapid– best friend, it was much more preferable to see her entirely content.

He downed the rest of his glass and it was as though Rose could hear the sound of the empty crystal against the end table as he set it down. She immediately strode over to him and picked it up, asking if he'd like another. It was tempting, but _he _certainly wanted to be in the right state of mind during their Apparition Licensing test the following morning.

She shrugged and sipped from her own drink. "Suit yourself."

"Come sit with me for a moment." He beckoned her toward him and she cheerfully obeyed, plopping down next to him. Tom could tell from her movements, which were slightly less graceful than usual, that she was certainly buzzed if not entirely drunk.

Rose lit a cigarette and rested her head in his lap, looking up at him with the beautiful smile he had just been admiring from across the room. He returned her smile with his own and stroked her hair. "You've been working so hard to make sure everyone is having a nice time. I hope _you're _enjoying yourself."

"Yes, certainly!" Rose said. She sat up abruptly and looked into his eyes. "Oh Tom, everything is perfect. I can't think of a single thing that would make me happier than I am right now."

"I'm so pleased to hear that."

She leaned in and kissed him passionately; he could taste the gin on her tongue. When she pulled away she said: "Actually, there is something I've been meaning to ask."

"And what is that?"

"Well, I'm sure that you're spending Easter with your family, but I was wondering if you'd like to visit sometime during the holiday and meet my parents. I hope you don't think I'm being too forward."

"Not at all, I'd love to visit."

As soon as the words came from his lips, he hated himself for his own impulsiveness. He had been so caught up in her the last few weeks that he had almost entirely forgotten the last barrier to their togetherness: her family. Sure, it whispered at him in the back of his mind at times, but up until now, he could ignore it as something not to worry over.

Now the time had come and he instantly regretted his unthinking rashness. What next? He began to sweat while he listed the options in his head:

_1\. Attempt to fake your blood status. This may be near impossible considering her parents will likely have a list in their heads of all potential pureblood matches for her at Hogwarts. Perhaps you could claim your family came from abroad._

_2\. Make up some excuse as to why you can't attend._

_3\. Tell Rose everything and see what she thinks is best. They _are _her parents, after all._

Tom swallowed hard, realizing that these weren't very good options to pick from. Option 2 could be ruled out almost immediately; even if he put off the encounter now, it would have to happen at some point. Option 1 also had a downside: lying to Rosemary. A month and a half ago, when they first went steady, he might not have had a problem with this. But as they grew closer, it was becoming harder and harder to lie to her. It still tempted him from time to time, but whenever he did it made him feel worse than he ever had in his life. Even if it was something trivial like telling her he missed a couple of points on their Charms exam to make her feel better about her imperfect (but still the second best in the class) score.

She had dealt with enough lies in her past relationship; he wanted to treat her better than Avery had because he loved her and she deserved it. He knew there was another piece within him too, one that desired for her to accept him entirely. Of course, there were some things he simply could never tell her, such as his utilization of the Chamber of Secrets last year, but he wanted to keep that list at a minimum.

But informing her of his past and his blood status was terrifying and equally as conflicting. If she accepted it easily, he knew he might actually look down on her for it. He _wanted_ her to share his views of pureblood dominance. Then there was the other possibility that she wouldn't accept it and that she would either break things off or forever look down on him for it. He couldn't decide which of these potential outcomes the worst was.

He glanced down at her as she rested her head against his shoulder. Perhaps, if she were drunk enough, she would forget that she had even asked him in the first place. It would at least buy him some time while he decided what to do. "I'll get you another drink," he said, picking up her empty glass from the end table beside them.

She smiled up at him appreciatively and he rose from the couch, attempting to find the best way to get through the sweaty crowd of people without actually touching anyone. Finally he made it to the table that was covered in dozens of liquor bottles. As he prepared Rose's drink, a fourth year girl approached him. He thought her name was Gwen Carrow, but wasn't certain.

"It's quite the party," she commented.

Tom gave a slight nod, only half listening to her. He was busy searching the table for the bottle of Beefeater, which was nowhere to be found. He at least spotted a different brand, Tanqueray, and opened it, figuring that Rose would be too drunk to notice the difference.

"I have to say, it's a surprise to see you here, even though you _are _dating _Rose _and all."

He didn't like the way that Carrow had said her name, but didn't let it show. It was clear that she was simply jealous. Finally he looked up at her. The witch was curling her blonde hair around her finger nervously and kept glancing over at her nearby friends. He had thought that, perhaps, when he began dating Rose, these inane girls would be discouraged from approaching him. However, they seemed hungrier for his charm than ever before.

He supposed that indulging his ego for a moment wouldn't hurt. "Cheers, Miss Carrow." He raised the glass of gin at her and gave a small smirk.

She blushed instantly, appearing to lose all of her faux confidence as she mumbled the words, "Cheers, Tom."

Tom glanced over at her friends and raised the glass, sending a smirk in their direction as well. He walked away from them, rolling his eyes as soon as his back was turned to their dazed, open-mouthed looks.

"I'll drink to _that_," he heard one of them say.

He finally made it back to Rose and handed her the fresh drink and returning to his spot beside her.

"Well thank you, sir!" She beamed up at him before taking a drink. "This isn't Beefeater," she noted flatly.

He was baffled that she could actually tell. "I'm sorry, I tried to find it, but-" he started to explain quickly.

"I like it quite a bit, actually. It might be even better than Beefeater," she said as he breathed a sigh of relief. He certainly didn't want to have to pay another visit to the drink table and deal with the swooning girls again. "What was the brand?"

"Tanqueray," he informed her, though he wasn't sure if he was even pronouncing it right.

"Tan-que-ray," she repeated, speaking each syllable slowly. "It sounds so familiar. I think it was what my grandfather always used to drink."

Tom was about to reply when Rebecca walked up to them and looked at Rose nervously. "Can I speak with you in private, Rose?"

He waited; now was the true test of whether or not she would follow through and take his advice on the situation.

"Anything you say to me, you can say in front of my boyfriend," Rose said resolutely. Tom admired the move; it was a clear signal that she was even more in control of the situation than before. Clearly, she was catching on to his manipulative way of thinking quite quickly.

"Okay…" Rebecca sat down on the couch next to her and Tom pretended that he wasn't listening. "Well, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for everything that happened with Markus before you two broke up."

Rose merely shrugged and examined her nails.

"I don't want things to be uncomfortable between us," Orion continued. "Now that you and Faye are on speaking terms again, we'll all be spending a lot more time together."

Tom hoped that her prediction wasn't true. He aimed to spend as little time with these people as possible, with the exception of Rosemary of course.

Rose continued giving her a suspicious look.

"Really, I am sorry. I've even ditched Olive after I found out about her situation with Tom and the…situation…that happened between them."

His heart stopped momentarily and he looked at Rose; he hadn't told her about his run-in with Olive over a month ago when he had called her a whore. Though, from the way she maintained her perfect composure, Tom thought that maybe she somehow already knew about it.

Rose said nothing for a moment, even though Rebecca was looking at her desperately. Finally, she downed her glass of gin and asked sweetly, "Becca, would you be a dear and fetch me another round of gin? Tanqueray."

The girl nodded and took the glass from her hand, giving Rose an appreciative smile. "I'm excited to get to know you better, Horton."

"And I'm excited for the gin that you're getting me," she said pointedly.

Rebecca took the hint and scampered away toward the drink table. Tom was thoroughly impressed at her handling of the situation and how quickly Orion had fallen under her control. It had been a momentary distraction of his panic as she had brought up Hornby.

"You can explain the "situation" with Olive later," she said to him as she stood. The way she spoke, full of graceful power, was both terrifying and undoubtedly sexy. "I'm going to check on everyone to make sure they're still having a nice time."

Tom nodded at her, watching as she charmed her way through the crowd. He realized more and more that her personality was such a close reflection of his own, and he found this to be quite an exciting prospect. If (or when) they were made Head Boy and Head Girl of Hogwarts the following year, they would be indisputably unstoppable. Together, he thought, they would rule Hogwarts.

* * *

"_And there she was: reflecting so brightly the warmth that she installs. And there she was: we were infinite for a moment." – Craig Owens_

* * *

**Thank you to NoneOfYourBusiness101, silverfox1611, and aviditas for your reviews! They are **_**always**_** appreciated! So are the favorites/follows!**

**Please take a second to leave a review below. They make me super happy, if you couldn't tell.(:**


	19. Part I - A Bluff, A Confession

**It's all Tom's POV today. Enjoy!**

* * *

A Bluff. A Confession.

_April 1, 1944_

Rose rubbed her forehead and groaned. "I feel like shit." She eyed him and added crankily: "And _please, _for Merlin's sake, don't tell me 'I told you so'."

Tom closed his mouth and gave her a look of innocence. Of course, he _did _know that she would be hungover that morning even before he met her in the Great Hall. But clearly it would be best if he didn't comment on the situation.

"Next!"

She stepped forward to the table where a stout, middle-aged witch sat, waiting to check them in. "Rosemary Alana Horton."

The quill that had been resting on the table promptly raised itself and crossed her name off the parchment beneath it. "You're all set," the witch told her. "Gil or one of the other proctors will fetch you when it's your turn. Good luck!"

Tom rolled his eyes. This woman's only duty could have been replaced by a simple sign. She didn't even have to cross their names off the list? It was no wonder the wizarding economy was in such awful condition with such redundant expenditures by the Ministry.

Rose stood to the side and waited for him as he walked up to the table. "Tom Marvolo Riddle." He looked directly at the quill as he spoke, as it was the only thing doing any semblance of work in the general vicinity.

She began to repeat the exact words she had spoken to Rose less than a minute before: "You're all set. Gil-"

"Thanks," he said curtly before walking away with Rose.

She led him to the other side of the room where Lestrange, Donohue, Avery, and Orion were standing. Apparently, Rose wasn't the only hungover one:

"Just thinking about Apparating makes me feel sick…"

"At least you don't have a Quidditch game to play later."

"Speaking of, are you all coming?" Rebecca looked hopefully around at Tom, Rose, and Faye.

Rose shrugged noncommittally. Tom looked at the raven-haired witch blankly.

"Come _on_, it will be boring if I'm the only one there," she whined.

"Becca, I'm sorry, but I guarantee that if you continue speaking in that voice my answer will be 'no'," Faye snapped.

Rebecca sighed and Tom saw Rose perk up for the first time that morning, giving him a look of amusement after Faye's comment.

He realized that in the two months they had been a couple, he and Rose had never actually spent time together in a group setting. This was because of her fight with Faye, of course, but it was still odd to him that the dynamic could completely transform overnight. It was as though there had never been a falling out between any of them, with the exception of Rose's distant attitude toward Orion.

It was difficult to wrap his head around and Tom didn't know whether to owe his apparent cluelessness to his anti-social tendencies or if it was some sort of pureblood decorum he simply didn't understand.

Admittedly, he knew already that he preferred their old way of doing things. Rose was the only person he genuinely enjoyed being around. But, if this was what made her happy, he would try his best to go along with it. Besides, it would give him the opportunity to reinforce his dominance over them all.

Gil Pollack stepped into the Great Hall from the adjoining room and called "We're ready for Markus Avery, Ethan Gaines, Adam Lestrange, Angela Everhart, Rebecca Orion, and Rosemary Horton!"

Apparently they weren't going in any sort of order whatsoever. The inefficiency continued to baffle him.

She looked up at him nervously as the others grumbled and headed toward the door.

"You were so confident yesterday when you were trying to get me to attend your party," he teased her, unable to restrain himself. She narrowed her eyes bitterly, which only served to deepen his smirk. "You'll do just fine."

Her face softened. "It will be nice to get it over with. We'll have so much more free time without these lessons every week."

_I could certainly think of a few ways to spend it, _he thought as he imagined her disrobing in the Room of Requirement.

She sighed. "I'll see you after I suppose."

He watched her walk away, still somewhat lost in his voluptuous fantasies.

So lost, in fact, that he had forgotten Faye's name hadn't been called and that she was still standing there with him. He was startled and almost jumped when she began speaking: "You're actually really sweet with her. I'm pleasantly surprised."

Tom turned to her, unsure of what to say and slightly embarrassed. As much as he cared for Rose, he certainly didn't want to be labeled as sappy and lovesick. It also surprised him that she even brought it up in the first place. Avery and Lestrange hadn't dared to bring up anything related to his personal life ever since he had threatened them both a month or two prior. He wasn't used to being around people that weren't intimidated by him, with the exception of Rose.

He supposed Rose and Faye were somewhat alike in their confidence. But Tom knew that there was also a major difference between them in this way, too. Rose was confident because she was intelligent and knew it. Faye was confident because she had clearly been spoiled by doting parents her entire childhood. He knew because it showed; it caused much of his aversion to her. That and the fact that she was probably the shallowest person he had ever met. It was only a matter of time until she began rambling on about some meaningless celebrity, clothing, or where her parents were going to take her for their next vacation. The fact that she was somehow placed in Ravenclaw was inexplicable.

During the fight between Rose and Faye, he obviously hadn't seen much of her and had therefore forgotten some of this distaste. Even last night it had yet to sink in that he would have to be around her so much more frequently; he had gotten quite caught up in appreciating the fact that Rose was happy. But now he was really beginning to dread spending time with the other two couples.

Then again, he should at least _try _to like her, he told himself. She _was_ Rosemary's closest friend. He tried to think of something relatively pleasant to say, but words eluded him for a moment.

Faye looked at him expectantly for a split second and then sighed. "Well, it was nice talking to you, Riddle," she said sarcastically.

He was instantly furious at the tone of her voice, dripping with superiority as though he had simply been too boring for her to waste her time on. She had always given the impression that she looked down on him in some way. It had been clear for years that she disliked him and he couldn't help but wonder if it was because she could see through him and somehow know that he was a half-blood and poor. Perhaps Lestrange had told her.

Tom was about to let his anger get the best of him and make his loathing of her known when she turned on her heel and walked away toward the table of refreshments in the far corner of the room. He glared after her and continued to sulk until Rose tapped him on the shoulder.

She beamed and held up her licensing certificate: "I passed!" In her jubilance, she tossed her arms around his neck.

Her smile was infectious. He was hit again with the realization that seeing her happy was one of the most wonderful things to experience. It made him forget all about his unpleasant encounter with Faye for a moment and when it came to mind again, he told himself that he would just have to try to stay as cordial with her as possible. It may strain his patience immensely, but he knew that the alternative would make Rose unhappy, which meant that it wasn't really an alternative anyway.

"Alright, I can take the next group in now: Thelma Bain, Carl Wing, Tom Riddle, Valerie Pendergrass, Glen Headley, and Ruth Ellis."

"Good luck!" She kissed him on the cheek. "I might not wait, if it's all the same to you. I really need a nap if we're going to the Quidditch game later. Besides, I know you'll pass anyway."

"No need to wait," he assured her. "I hope you feel better."

They parted ways and he strode confidently toward Gil; he truly wasn't nervous at all about passing. Once the entire group arrived, he led them into the testing room. It was divided into six lanes with large panels of fabric between each. Tom was surprised the Ministry even had them set up in groups of six rather than just testing one student at a time. At least one thing about the process was somewhat efficient.

"You'll be at the far right lane, Mr. Ridde," Gil told him, gesturing to the other end of the room where a young, short wizard with glasses was waiting.

"Afternoon, Tom," his proctor greeted him as they shook hands. "So, as you well know by now, your task is to Apparate to the end of this lane and back again. If you're more than a meter from the wall on that side or from the line on this side, you'll have to retake the exam in a month. Any questions?"

Tom shook his head.

"Whenever you're ready then, Mr. Riddle." The wizard stood to the side of the lane and Tom walked up to the start line.

He closed his eyes. He could hear the cracks from the other Apparating students nearby. Pushing each and every thought from his mind, he focused only on wall across the room. He felt the characteristically unpleasant twists and contractions as he Apparated; it was surprising that it hadn't been too much for Rosemary's currently-volatile stomach.

Tom arrived on the other side of the room less than a second later. He had gotten extremely close to the wall, but his nose was still a few centimeters away. After he turned around and Apparated back to the line at which he had begun, he couldn't help but feel vastly disappointed in himself once more. His toes were nearly a tenth of a meter behind the line. He could have done better; he could have achieved perfection.

"That was likely the most impressive performance I've ever seen on an Apparition test," said the wizard.

Well, it wasn't perfect, but he'd settle for the compliment.

* * *

Tom was reading a book on advanced jinxes and hexes when Rose entered his dormitory later that day. "Are you feeling better?" he asked her.

"Oh, certainly. But I _really _don't feel like going to the Quidditch match today. I just told Faye we'd be staying in. Is that alright with you?"

He nodded in relief as he had no interest in attending the Quidditch match either.

She walked over and sat with him on his bed. "How did your test go?"

"Fine," he said, still feeling somewhat disappointed in himself for Apparating less precisely than he could have.

"Faye said she had a nice talk with you while I was taking my test."

She hadn't said it with the sarcastic tone he may have expected. Rather, she looked entirely pleased. It caught him off guard for a moment.

The only explanation he could think of was that Faye was trying to play games with him. He wondered if, perhaps, she was trying to create a divide between Rosemary and him without Rose's knowledge of it. Getting Tom to admit that he didn't like Faye certainly would have been a way to do it, given that Rose was so pleased to make amends and surely wasn't about to let anything come between their friendship. If this were true, he would be forced to admit that he had underestimated Donohue's intellect.

Regardless, she had much to learn; two could play and Tom never lost. He would show her that he could be just as deceptively polite and he wouldn't fall into her trap. "Oh yes, it was quite nice."

"_Really? _I've sort of gotten the feeling that you don't like her very much." Rose gave him a look of surprise and it increased his paranoia.

"No, I don't mind her at all," he bluffed.

She looked at him with satisfaction. "Well that's great news. Honestly, I didn't think either of you liked each other at all, but apparently I was mistaken. You know, she was actually the one who reminded me that you haven't met my family yet! I just wrote my mother this morning, by the way, to let them know you'll be visiting."

Tom felt dread at her words in two entirely separate capacities. Clearly she hadn't been drunk enough to forget her suggestion that he should visit for Easter. In addition, his suspicions of the situation with Faye were confirmed. It was more obvious than ever that she knew about his blood status and was trying to use it to drive a wedge between he and Rose. He was livid as he realized this, of course, but he swallowed, using nearly all of his willpower to reserve himself. "Well, isn't that _thoughtful _of her."

He realized that now, he didn't even have an option in this situation. If he lied to Rose about his blood status, he would fall into Faye's trap and she would surely reveal the truth sooner or later, even if he could keep it out of her parents' radar. He knew that if this happened, Rose probably would never forgive him. Besides, lying to her about his blossoming hate toward Faye was already taxing enough.

"Marvolo," she said quietly, seemingly out of nowhere. "That's the first time I heard your middle name, when you signed in this morning. I like it, actually. Why did your parents choose it?"

"I don't know," he said honestly.

"My late grandmother's name was Alana," she said. "That's how they chose mine."

He was too busy panicking at the unpleasant state of affairs that were unfolding between her parents, Faye, and himself to actually listen to what she was saying.

Apparently, some of his worry was shown on his face. "Oh, Tom, don't worry. My parents will _adore_ you." She turned his face so their eyes met.

He averted his gaze. His heart beat violently as he spoke, "Unfortunately, I don't believe that will be the case."

He couldn't bring himself to look back at her face, but her voice was full of worry. "What's wrong? Did Markus tell you that my father can be frightening at times? I assure you, it's only ever in a joking way."

He shook his head.

"What then?" Then _she _sounded panicked: "Oh, no. It's my fault, isn't it? I rushed things."

"No," he said quickly. He didn't want her to feel any of the blame. She deserved better.

He opened his mouth to explain further, but words failed him. For all he knew, this could be the end of them. It was so unbearably painful to think about. But, at the same time, he needed to tell them if they were to move forward. "They won't approve of us, Rosemary. I'm not like you, or them," he said finally.

Tom looked up at her, pleading for her to understand.

_Please, don't make me say it._

But her perplexed look made it clear she hadn't the first clue what he was talking about.

"I-I'm not a pureblood," he managed to stammer. He forced himself to look at her beautiful face. He glanced down at her lips for a moment, wondering if he would ever get the chance to kiss them again.

It took a moment for his words to register. Then her eyes widened. "_What?_"

He wasn't going to repeat it. He looked down, ashamed, as she sat there next to him in blatant shock.

Then the inevitable questions began: "Are you a half-blood, then?"

He nodded.

"I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I always thought you were a bit of a blood elitist, like Markus, Adam, and-"

"And you?" It came out before he could stop it.

She looked hurt and he instantly regretted it. "Tom, it's how I was raised."

"I'm sorry," he told her. "I understand. Believe me, I hate my mother for what she did and if I could change it, I would."

"I'm sure she's a fine person, Tom."

He could tell she was trying to be reassuring and it sparked his temper. What the fuck did she know? "I suppose I wouldn't know, seeing as they're both dead." He glared at her.

"Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry." The way pity was so quick to flood into her eyes deepened his anger. She put a hand on his arm and he pulled away. "Okay, I understand. You don't want to talk about it."

"No, I don't," he snapped angrily.

She didn't seem perturbed at his temper. Instead, she touched his arm again, running her fingers up and down. He didn't pull away from her this time. It was admittedly comforting and he felt himself calm down a bit. "That's completely fine. But I have to ask: why didn't you tell me any of this sooner?"

He had calmed down slightly, but was still irritable. "Can _you _think of a good time that I could have brought this up?"

"No, you're right," she said softly. "I'm sorry I seem shocked, but this is…quite a surprise."

All at once, he was surprised, relieved, and appalled that she was still there, sitting next to him. There was a huge part of him that was so incredibly thankful that she hadn't been furious with him and left the instant she found out. But, then there was the other side of him that was bothered she wasn't more put off by his confession. He couldn't decide whether or not this changed the way he felt about her. Perhaps they _didn't _actually have the same views on blood. Or perhaps she _was_ and was simply too polite to say so. He decided he had to know for sure.

"I'd like to hear your views on blood," he told her. "I'd appreciate if you were completely honest."

"Alright…" She hesitated. "Well, I suppose I've always thought that half-born and muggle-born individuals were at a bit of a genetic disadvantage in terms of magical ability. Certainly with the muggle-born, I think. But I know plenty of half-bloods that are excellent at magic, like Emily Springer...and you,for instance."

He hadn't known Springer was a half-blood. So she knowingly _chose _to be friends with them? "Don't you still look down on her for it?"

Rose was quiet for a few moments before she finally admitted, "Yes, I suppose at times, I do."

Tom was so internally conflicted that he had no idea what to say. The fact that she looked down on Springer at least meant their views were the same. He didn't mind dealing with half-blood students as much as muggle-born either. But this surely also meant that she looked down on _him_ in the same way and he didn't think he could cope with that. Even if they continued their relationship, how could he possibly be as happy as before? He knew that this insecurity would gnaw at him forever.

They both sat in silence, each of them clearly struggling with their own inner turmoil. Thankfully, Rosemary spoke so he didn't have to. "Tom, if I'm being completely honest, I don't think I'll ever be able to see you as a half-blood. You are by far the cleverest and most talented wizard I've ever met and what's more, you see _yourself _as a pureblood. You would change the past if you could, but you can't. That's all that matters and that's what makes you who you are."

He may have thought that she was just saying this to be kind, but her voice and eyes were convincingly genuine. As he processed her words, the confliction in his mind began to subside. He thought that maybe he could still be happy with her if this was true: if she truly would continue to see him as a pureblood. He was suddenly flooded with love and adoration for this remarkable girl who seemed to be the only person to genuinely understand him.

But, there was still the issue of her family.

As though she could hear his thoughts, she said, "We'll figure out a way to deal with my parents together. No one needs to know but me."

Of course, Avery, Lestrange, and Donohue already knew as well, but her words were vastly reassuring nonetheless.

She turned his face toward her once more and he met her gaze. "I mean it. Everything will be fine. You'll see."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I can't even bear the thought of being apart." She paused and gave him a small smile. "I love you, Tom Riddle."

* * *

"_You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest, and most beautiful person I have ever known – and even that is an understatement." – F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

**Thank you to danceegirl92, I thought I was the only one, and I. Am. Thalote for their reviews and/or PMs!**

**From now on, things won't be so damn sappy. We've laid the framework for Tom and Rose's relationship and things are going to become increasingly complex between them**_** and**_** the other characters as well (which I'm sure you picked up on after Tom's interaction with Faye). I'm so excited for what's to come and I hope you are, too!**


	20. Part I - Keeper's Intuition

Keeper's Intuition

_April 12, 1944_

Rose could barely sit still as her mother fastened a delicate string of pearls around her neck. She was antsy, nervous about the night ahead of them. At least she could play it off as excitement.

And that's exactly what her mother took it as.

"I remember that feeling of fervor. Young love can be so splendid." There was a hint of sadness in her mother's voice, but Rose attributed it to the nostalgia that every adult must feel when they look back upon their adolescent years. "I must admit that I was hopeful for a long while that you and Markus would make amends. Even so, your father and I are pleased you found someone you truly fancy. It's time for you to think of your future."

Of course, by future she meant a wedding and children soon after. Rose thought about reminding her mother that she had little interest in domestic life and would rather pursue an actual career, but thought better of it. Now was not the time for that battle.

The doorbell rang and fresh panic hit her.

Her mother glanced at her excitedly. "It sounds as though Tom has arrived." She stepped out of Rosemary's room and into the hall and shouted, "Zisly, please fetch the door!"

Rose looked at her reflection in the mirror of her vanity table and took a few ragged breaths.

_Calm down. You've rehearsed this in your head at least a thousand times._

She stood and hurried into the hall, scurrying past her mother and down the marble staircase that led to the foyer. "I'll answer it, Zisly!"

"_Rose_, stop bustling about! It's unladylike!" Evelyn scolded.

She didn't slow down until she arrived at the front door and saw that Zisly had already let Tom inside. Their house-elf gave her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry Miss Rosemary."

"That's alright, Zisly. Why don't you go prepare for dinner?" Rose said, though her eyes were transfixed on Tom. In his impeccably well-fitting suit that accentuated his tall frame, he looked as dashing as ever. When her parents took one look at him, they would surely be convinced that he came from an affluent family.

"Good evening, Tom," she greeted him with a small smile and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. She stepped back and looked into his dark eyes, searching for some sort of reassurance that the night would go exactly as they had planned, but they were entirely blank.

"Good evening, Rosemary." His tone was foreign to her at first, but she quickly realized that it was exactly how he used to speak to her when they were merely acquaintances. It made her uncomfortable and she wished he could speak to her as casually as she had grown accustomed to. But that would have to wait; now it was time for them both to put on a bit of a show.

It was then that her own selfishness struck her. She should be the one giving _him_ reassurance, not the other way around.

Her mother joined them in the foyer. "Mrs. Horton," Tom greeted her, kissing the top of her hand. "Thank you for allowing me to visit your lovely home." She had to hand it to him; his manners were utterly flawless.

Even Evelyn, the queen of proper etiquette, looked impressed. "We're so pleased you could find the time to visit. The holiday can be such a busy time for everyone."

Tom flashed his handsome smile and her mother stood there just staring at him for a moment in its aftermath. She slowly seemed to recover, though her eyes remained glued to him as she spoke to Rose: "I'll fetch your father from his study and meet you both in the dining room."

She left and Rose gave him what she thought was a convincingly optimistic look. The exchange had gone quite well, but there was a long night ahead of them. Tom's mask of formality fell for just a moment as a worried shadow passed rapidly over his features, revealing that he too was aware of this reality. She took his hand and squeezed it in reassurance before she led him through the house.

Her parents soon came downstairs to join them. Tom shook her father's hand and they took their seats at the large dining room table.

"I wish I could say that I've heard more about you, Tom, but Rosemary has been mysteriously quiet. She hasn't even told us your last name."

This had been part of their plan, of course, to tell them as little as possible. But she hadn't expected her father to ask about his surname so quickly.

She held her breath as Tom answered. "It's Riddle, sir."

Zisly entered the room with a bottle of chardonnay and presented it to Rose's father. He swished the wine in the glass. "Riddle, hm?" Her father tasted the wine and he looked lost in thought for a moment. Rose couldn't tell whether he was thinking about Tom's name or the wine, but she hoped desperately that it was the latter. "That's a fine choice, Zisly."

The house-elf nodded and served a glass to each of them. Rose took a sip, thankful that her father hadn't dwelled on Tom's answer.

"Riddle…I can't seem to place it."

Rosemary nearly choked on her wine, suddenly filled with dread. Apparently, he hadn't moved past it as easily as she had hoped.

"Evelyn, dear, do we know any Riddle's?"

Her mother furrowed her eyebrows together. "It sounds rather familiar, actually."

Basil seemed satisfied, at least for the time being. Rose fought the urge to look to her right at Tom; she was afraid that her face would reveal too much.

It was her mother's turn to ask a question and thankfully it wasn't nearly as nerve-wracking. "What house are you in at Hogwarts?"

"Slytherin, madam."

"Please, darling, call me Evelyn." Clearly, she was completely charmed by Tom. It showed in the way she looked across the table at him.

"She's afraid of sounding old, but she has nothing to worry about. She doesn't look a day older than thirty," her father smirked.

"Slytherin is an excellent house," her mother smiled, ignoring her husband's comment. "Though we are a bit partial to Ravenclaw in this home."

Zisly reappeared with a round of salads for their first course. Rose took full advantage of the pause to steer the conversation away from Tom. "Father, how's business at Comet? I'm sure Tom would love to hear about it."

"It's as hectic as usual," her father sighed. Rose knew the fatigue in his voice was not an exaggeration; her father worked exceptionally hard even though Keitch, the company's co-founder, had stepped away from many of the day-to-day operations over the years. Basil could have retreated as well as their staff had grown exponentially, but he remained deeply involved in the company, especially when it came to broom design which was his chief passion. Rose had always been proud of him for his leadership.

"We're releasing the Comet 187 at the beginning of next month and everyone's scrambling." He frowned. "The marketing department is in shambles. It's exactly as I feared when I hired a few half-blood and muggle-born employees last summer to fill it. Unfortunately, there just aren't as many young pureblood wizards to meet our hiring demand. We take what we can get, I suppose."

Rose glanced at Tom, who was nodding in agreement. At first, it didn't faze her in the slightest that he agreed with her father's bias; she had to keep reminding herself that he was a half-blood.

A half-blood that _shared _their beliefs, as counterintuitive as it seemed.

"It all starts in the schools." Basil shook his head, continuing on. "There should be at least some sort of special program for the students that lack fully magical blood. You know, to help them catch up and all."

"I agree entirely," Tom said. "I've also wondered at times if, perhaps, there should simply be three separate schools."

Her father's face was unreadable for a few tense seconds and Rose downed the remainder of her wine. She rarely discussed politics with her parents and had no idea how they would perceive his views, which were apparently a bit more radical than she had anticipated. Although, he could have only said it to impress them; she wasn't sure.

Slowly, Basil nodded as a slightly amused look spread across his features. "Now that's an idea, Tom Riddle. Very forward-thinking of you."

"Thank you, sir."

Their main course was served and the conversation continued between bites. Rosemary's stomach dropped, though, as her father suddenly set down his fork and said, "I still can't quite seem to place the name 'Riddle'. What are your parents' names? I _must_ know them somehow."

"Basil," Evelyn hissed. "Stop harassing Tom. It's not his fault you have an abysmal memory."

Rose's heart pounded against her chest as she sat there, helplessly. Now that her wine was gone, she didn't even have _that_ to turn to.

"It's alright," Tom said coolly to her mother before turning his gaze back to Basil. "You have no reason to have heard of the name; they're simply the half-blood family that raised me."

Rose watched as her father exchanged a concerned glance with her mother. Tom made no indication that he had noticed as he continued in his calm, even voice. "My birth parents passed away when I was very young."

Evelyn put her hand to her mouth in shock and dismay.

"They were from Switzerland so I find it unlikely that you've heard of them either. I met the Riddle's when they were on vacation; they had been looking to adopt a child for some time and I ended up returning to London with them that summer."

"I'm so sorry to hear about your parents," Evelyn said.

"Thank you for your kindness, but I never knew them. They left me plenty to live off of, I grew up in a decent home – albeit a half-blood one – and I've managed to do relatively well at Hogwarts."

"He's being modest," Rose smiled. "He's the top student in every class."

"Such a tragic beginning makes your accomplishments all the more impressive," her father said finally.

Rose knew that their pity was driving him up the wall, but was happy he didn't let it show. Overall, she was quite impressed with his acting capability. Finally, the story they had rehearsed again and again was out in the open. Done and over with.

Zisly cleared their plates and Basil pushed his chair away from the table. "Evelyn, my dear, why don't you and Rosemary fix us some drinks while I show Tom the Quidditch room? We'll meet you outside on the back porch."

Rose rolled her eyes; her father showed off the room holding his various trophies and Falmouth Falcons memorabilia whenever he had the chance.

Evelyn nodded. "That sounds splendid. It's a beautiful evening and we should enjoy it."

They stood from the table. "This way, my boy!" Basil led Tom into the hallway, putting his arm around his shoulder as though he was one of his old Quidditch teammates.

Rose and her mother walked across the room to the large liquor cabinet. They could have asked Zisly to make them drinks, but sometimes she just didn't mix them right. She couldn't really be blamed, though; it would be like blaming someone who has never driven for being a bad driver. House-elves simply couldn't handle that amount of alcohol and it was near impossible for Zisly to make a perfect drink without knowing what it was supposed to taste like.

But, some people's preferences were easier to prepare than others: Rose procured the bottle of their best single-malt scotch for Tom and poured it into a tumbler.

"He's absolutely charming, Rose. You two make such a fine couple," Evelyn said, as she fixed an Old Fashioned for Basil.

"We do, don't we?"

"It's a shame that he was raised by half-bloods, but it's obvious from his magical talent that he is, indeed, a pureblood."

Rose nodded and began mixing herself a gin martini, feeling absolutely giddy. She suddenly also felt ridiculous for worrying so much that week: their plan had been utterly flawless, after all. She sighed contentedly. Their evening had gone just as perfectly as she had hoped with all her heart it would.

* * *

"Are you a Quidditch man, Tom?" Basil asked as they entered the massive room. Each wall was lined with various trophies and plaques. There were so many that Tom thought there might be a danger of going blind from the light they reflected if he were to visit the room in the daytime.

"I don't play for the house team, but I certainly enjoy watching a good match. It's a fine sport," he said. Slowly, he was gaining confidence and beginning to relax around Rose's father as they moved further and further from the discussion of his family. The need to act was quickly fading; it was so obvious that he had successfully charmed both of her parents.

He motioned for Tom to sit in a nearby armchair, so he sat. The older wizard crossed the room and took a plaque off the wall, bringing it back over to Tom and handing it to him. "This was awarded to me in 1930, after I retired from the Falmouth Falcons to dedicate more time to Comet. I was inducted to the International Quidditch Hall of Fame as one of the greatest Keepers in history."

Tom's eyes scanned the impressive plaque as Basil continued on. "Now, I'm not just telling you this story because I like to boast." He paused and Tom met his hazel-eyed gaze. "There are a lot of things that make a good Keeper, Tom: determination, agility, and the like. But do you know what makes a truly _great_ Keeper?"

He shook his head.

"The ability to read people." The wizard took the plaque from his hands and strode across the room to return it to its display once more. "A great Keeper is always one step ahead of the Chasers. I believe that's been my secret to success, both in my Quidditch career and as a businessman." He sat in the armchair directly facing Tom and leaned forward. "Though I must admit, even with my forte in this area, I'm having a hard time figuring out your intentions."

Had there been some sort of odd misunderstanding between them? Things had been going so well, he thought. Exactly to plan.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Rosemary's father laughed; it had the pleasant, carefree quality of the way all wealthy people laughed. The way Rose laughed.

"You tell me. I've seen types like you before, the climbers. Those who _lie_ their way to the top. I've hired many of them at my company and they always do well, but they don't have many friends. Probably because they quite often use their cut-throat manipulation to work their way up. Usually, they get there very quickly. So what exactly is it that you want? Was your plan to use my daughter's name to make connections in the wizarding world?"

For a moment, Tom had no choice but to sit there, completely dumbfounded as Basil reached into a wooden box on the coffee table between them and withdrew a cigar. "No," Tom finally began. "I think there's been some sort of mis-"

"Please, spare me. I very much dislike being lied to." He lit the cigar and sat back in his chair. "You weren't just _raised _a half-blood. You are one, aren't you?"

Tom swore his pulse stopped for a good ten seconds as the alarms in his mind commenced. He was so sure he had convinced her parents. What had possibly gone wrong?

He must have accepted the fact that Tom wasn't going to answer him, because he continued. "Oh, I've heard the name Riddle, alright. It took me a while to place it, but I remember now. You see, a few years ago I hired a man to work for my sales department. Well, he was absolutely penniless and a dreadful salesman at that, but do you know what I remember most about him? I would get complaint after complaint from every salesman that he got partnered up with because he wouldn't stop carrying on about his sister, the blood traitor that had married a man named Riddle. Tom Riddle. And I'm convinced that you, _Tom Riddle_, are their son."

A chill traveled down his spine. He was trying his best to stay calm, but he was in the midst of complete and utter panic. This was _not_ the same man that he had spent a perfectly amicable dinner talking with. This man, who was staring at him with loathing, condemnatory eyes. Tom had a strong feeling that Rose had never seen this side to her father. There was no use trying to deny anything anymore. He knew what he knew.

"So, tell me, what is it that you want?"

"I don't want anything."

Basil chuckled slightly. "Only Rose? I find that hard to believe."

"Only Rose," he said hoarsely. While some of the other benefits to being a part of her family likely would have occurred to him later, he had only had one goal for the evening, and that was to gain her parents' approval.

"Look, Tom. You're a clever lad; that much is clear. I'd even consider hiring you to work for me. But my daughter will not be involved with a half-blood." He paused to take a puff of his cigar. "This is how it's going to go: you'll end things with Rose and someday you'll marry a perfectly nice half-blood or muggle-born witch. You will be the one to end things because the last thing Evelyn needs is her daughter screaming at her again. My wife has been through enough in the past few months because of Rose."

He could feel his temper rising to his cheeks. "And if I don't?"

"Then I'm sure you'll understand when I tell you that you're no longer welcome in my home."

Tom stood. "Well, thank you for dinner, _sir_." He briskly left the room and attempted to remember which way the front door was.

He started down the hallway and turned the corner, arriving in the foyer where Rose had greeted him earlier that evening, long before everything had gone to shit. She and Evelyn were standing there and both of them gave him a nearly identical, puzzled look.

Tom stopped walking and they all stared at each other for a moment.

"We were just about to come find you," Rose said. She was holding a tray, their four cocktails balancing precariously on top of it. She looked so entirely happy and he hated that he would be the one to ruin it.

He looked at her and then her mother and back again. They looked so much alike, with that striking bright red hair. His eyes rested on Rose's and it was clear that she instantly registered that something was wrong. "Tom?" Her voice was quiet and uneasy.

He turned on his heel, without saying a word to either of them, and walked out the front door. He hadn't closed the door behind him, so he heard the glasses shatter as she dropped the tray to the floor. "Tom!"

He didn't stop walking.

"What did you say to him?" she demanded. Apparently her father had entered the scene, but he couldn't be sure. The sounds from the house were growing fainter and fainter.

"Tom! Wait!" she screamed into the chilly spring air.

"Rosemary Alana Horton! Get back here this instant!" her father bellowed.

He refused to look back. He would Apparate as soon as he reached the end of their driveway. It was twenty meters away.

How had things been so flawless one moment and so rotten the next? He wished he could hate her parents, but he _agreed_ with them. As much as he wanted to be with Rosemary, he couldn't exactly find fault with their wishes of wanting to marry her to a pureblood.

Rose caught up with him just as he was about to reach their front gate. She pulled his arm and turned him around. "Please, Tom. Please, don't go." She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest.

He didn't return her touch. "That's not really an option right now." He glanced at their colossal home and saw that her father was still standing in the doorway. It was only a matter of time before he too started down the driveway. He wasn't afraid, but it would be pointless to stick around unless he could speak to Rosemary in private.

"What happened? I know we can't talk now, but come back later tonight," she pleaded, talking frantically. "My parents will be asleep. Just come to the backyard and I'll be waiting for you. I'll stand on my balcony. I'll sneak you into my room and we can talk about this."

He pulled away from her. "I can't do that, Rosemary." If her parents found them sneaking around in their home, it would only make things worse.

Tom looked down at her feet, which were entirely covered in mud. Apparently she had abandoned her shoes in order to catch up with him. He might have thought it was funny if they weren't in such a wretched state of affairs. When he glanced back up to her eyes, they were swimming with tears. It hurt to look so he averted his gaze.

It was then that he noticed her father was starting down the driveway toward them.

"Please," she whispered. "I can't lose you. You have to tell me what happened."

Tom knew he was running out of time as he kept glancing between her and her quickly approaching father. He also knew that he would be just as miserable as she was if they had to wait until they were back at Hogwarts to discuss the events of that evening. He would just have to take his chances.

"Midnight," he whispered, giving in to her desperate plea as he stepped away from her and Disapparated with a sharp crack.

* * *

_"The course of true love never did run smooth." - William Shakespeare_

* * *

**This chapter was way too much fun to write. :D I hope you enjoyed it!**

**So, omg, we're officially at Chapter 20! It's going by so fast...but there's still SO MUCH to go! Thank you to I. Am. Thalote, I thought I was the only one, danceegirl92, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, and CharlotteBlackwood for their reviews.(:**

**Unfortunately, I probably won't be able to post again until Wednesday night. Exams and graduation are this week so things are a little crazy right now! Even so, reviews will keep me on track, writing as much as I possibly can.**


	21. Part I - Transient Resolution

Transient Resolution

_April 12, 1944_

She stared at the spot he had Disapparated from until her father took her by the wrist and pulled her back to the house. She was still in too much shock to bother fighting from his grip.

By the time they reached the front door, her shock had been replaced with fury.

"What have you done?" Rose spat at her father, though she feared she may already know the answer.

"Now, Rosemary, I understand that you're upset. But that boy is a complete fraud." Basil spoke calmly and rested his hands on Rose's shoulders to comfort her. She realized with dismay that it was _exactly _as she had feared.

"What are you going on about?" her mother asked, still standing in the foyer "Basil, he was a perfectly nice young man!"

"Evelyn, Rose…he's not who he says he is. He's a half-blood. He lied."

Her mother gasped.

Rose narrowed her eyes at her father. "How do you know?"

"Through a former employee at Comet. I only just remembered…Oh darling, I'm so sorry you had to find out this way. I'm sure it comes as a great shock. Even I was convinced for a while..."

She ripped herself away from his touch. "And that means nothing? You say _yourself_ that you were convinced. He's basically a pureblood. The truth is a formality!"

Her father's face grew increasingly somber. "You knew." He shook his head. "I don't believe it. You let a half-blood into our home. You let him sit there and _lie_ to us."

Rose had never seen her father so disappointed in her. It left her feeling entirely conflicted. She didn't want her parents to be unhappy with her, but she cared too much about Tom to let them win.

She could see the heat rising in her father's cheeks and she looked at the floor.

"Does any of this mean anything to you!?" he roared. She jumped at his voice; he had never actually yelled at her before. "We are the Hortons! There is a great deal of pride that comes with bearing this name, don't you understand? No, of course not. You'd throw it away for some worthless, illegitimate suitor!"

Rose's eyes began to tear up at his words, but she pushed them back. She was surprised her mother hadn't joined in on his berating of her, but it was clear that Evelyn was still in complete shock. The room was completely silent for a few seconds except for the sound of Zisly's small broom dragging the fragments of shattered glass against the floor.

Her father straightened his tie and lowered his voice. His tone grew even and threatening: "I would suggest, given that you only have one year to fulfill our agreement, that you spend your time searching for a proper match."

Rose glared at him. Like hell _that_ was going to happen. She stormed past them and toward the staircase that led to her room.

"Rosemary Horton, stop walking across my floor with your filthy feet!" her mother cried.

Rose remembered that her feet were caked in mud from running down their long driveway and that her shoes were still in the front lawn where she had tossed them. She ignored her; it wasn't as though Evelynwas actually the one that would clean it up anyway. That was Zisly's job.

Finally, she reached her room. She locked her door behind her and stepped into her adjoining bathroom; her hand was shaking slightly as she turned on the water and rinsed her feet before drawing herself a bath. As she slid off her dress and lowered herself into the water, she felt as though she wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. Her mind was swirling and knew she wouldn't be able to make sense of anything until she could see Tom again.

Rose had hoped the bath would calm her nerves, but it did little. She didn't even bother running a comb through her wet hair, pausing only put on her bathrobe and grab her gin and cigarettes from her trunk before stepping outside onto her balcony to wait for him. The air was chilly and would have been frigid combined with her wet hair, if she could actually feel it. Right now she felt numb to everything.

Finally, after smoking three cigarettes and taking numerous swigs straight from the bottle of gin, she glanced inside at the clock: 11:53.

"_Accio wand_," she attempted weakly, wishing that she was as talented in wandless magic as Tom was when it didn't fly from her room and into her outstretched hand.

In defeat, she wandered back into her room to retrieve her wand. It wasn't in her coat pocket, _or_ her school robes, _or _her nightstand: the only three reasonable places she would have put it.

"Where the _fuck_ are you, you fucking stupid wand?" she said aloud in frustration as she began searching her trunk, throwing her neatly-folded clothes out of her way and onto the floor around her. It was nowhere to be found.

She collapsed on the floor next to her trunk, laying on her back and staring up at the ceiling as she pondered where else it would possibly be. Had she left it at school? Or, worse, on the train? Of _course _she would lose her wand at the most inopportune time. She groaned. This would mean a special trip to Diagon Alley with the parents she had been so keen on avoiding for the remainder of the holiday. She couldn't just go back to school without one; what if her old one didn't turn up? Nor could she simply go to Ollivanders alone; there was a lengthy paperwork process involved for replacement wands, as it was highly discouraged ever to have more than one.

She was beginning to dread it so greatly that it had temporarily distracted her from the situation with Tom. Then, miraculously, she glanced to her right and it was there, sitting on the edge of her vanity. It had been behind her the entire time she had been tearing apart her trunk.

"Fuck you, wand." She shook her head in disgust and took another drink before she snatched it off the table, pointing it at her bedroom door and muttering the incantation for the Imperturbable Charm.

She returned to the balcony and climbed up to sit on the railing, dangling her legs over the edge. It had begun to rain, but she didn't care; she would wait for him through _hail_ if she needed to. Her eyes scanned the gardens behind her house, looking for the glimmer of his familiar pale skin in the moonlight.

12:04.

Her heart quickened. What if he changed his mind and didn't show?

But surely he would. He had told her just last week that he loved her in return and she believed him. She _trusted _him. He wouldn't just abandon her like that.

Right?

Thankfully, just as the panic was beginning to set in, she saw his form in the distance. It was dark and she could barely make him out, but she knew it was him when she recognized his confident gait. Relief washed over her and she swung her legs back over the railing, standing once more. It took a moment to steady herself because of the gin; when she finally did, she waved at him.

Just seeing him give her a small wave in return made her feel infinitely better. She watched him as he briskly crossed their lawn, stopped at her balcony, and looked up at her with a solemn look on his face.

For a moment they just stood like that, staring at each other in the rain.

When she began to come to her senses again, she pointed at a large trellis leaning against the house near her balcony and whispered, "You can climb up this!"

Tom nodded, though he looked rather skeptical of the wooden structure's stability as he walked over to it. Rose watched as he cautiously scaled it and pulled himself onto the platform where she stood.

She threw her arms around him the moment she had the chance and he held her in return. Just as it began to pour. They stood there for at least a minute until Rose pulled him inside and shut the doors behind them. "I'll get you a towel."

He shot her a look of alarm.

She pointed at her bedroom door. "I casted the Imperturbable Charm. They can't hear us." The look of worry didn't completely disappear so she sighed. "We'll test it…ZISLY!"

They waited a few seconds and the house-elf didn't appear. Finally, he gave her a small nod of his approval.

Rose walked to her bathroom to fetch a couple of towels and caught a glimpse of her haphazard appearance in the mirror. Her hair was a wild, tangled mess and she had forgotten that she was still wearing only her bathrobe. She cursed herself mentally for not fixing herself up a bit before he arrived.

Then she reentered her bedroom and she cursed herself again as she realized her clothes were still strewn about her floor. Perfect; on top of everything else, he would now think of her as a complete slob.

"I'm sorry I was late," he murmured as she returned to him and gave him one of the towels. She unbuttoned his suit jacket and slid it off his shoulders, increasing the number of clothing items on the floor by one. "I Apparated at the end of your street so they wouldn't hear me."

She could smell the scotch on his breath as he spoke. "You've been drinking," she said.

"So have you."

Rose nodded and an unbearable silence grew between them. They had so much to say, but they were both clearly struggling to find the right words to do so. His face was grim as she pulled him to sit with her on her bed, positioning herself so they were facing one another.

"My father told me what happened," she offered in attempt to begin some sort of communication between them. "Well, sort of."

He said nothing and looked away from her.

"I told them that I'll always see you as a pureblood and they should too."

He snorted and rolled his eyes. "I'm sure _that_ did a load of good."

His comment stung; she thought she had done the right thing. She had defended him. Perhaps the alcohol in her bloodstream was making her more sensitive than usual, but she couldn't help the bitterness that leaked out in her voice: "Well, I'm sorry I didn't know how to act. I didn't exactly expect things to go the way they did."

"You're right, I suppose this is entirely my fault," he snapped, suddenly angry.

She immediately regretted using such a bitter tone toward him before. "That's not what I said at all! Tom, we both knew there was a _chance_ this would happen. I just didn't think it would. Everything was going according to plan-"

"It was a stupid plan." He narrowed his eyes and gave her a condescending look she had only ever seen him give other people.

It slowly dawned on her that he blamed _her_. Not even he was on her side anymore. She couldn't stand it, nor could she stand the look he was giving her as though he thought of her as trivial and foolish.

Her temper began to boil over, each syllable she spoke teeming with icy sarcasm: "You're right, Tom. I must be so _stupid_ to come up with such a ridiculous plan."

She stood from the bed, narrowing her eyes at him just as he had to her. Her anger seemed to worsen as she continued to speak and her voice reflected it, growing harsher and louder. "You must think I'm so _silly _and _foolish_ for failing to think of something better than the plan that _you_ agreed to. The plan I only had a weekto think of because _you _didn't bother to tell me sooner."

At this point she had completely lost control and was essentially shouting at him: "You're right! It was so _stupid _of me to lie to my parents for you! I was so _silly_ to defend you! And so _foolish_ to think that the fact that I love you made it worth it!"

* * *

It seemed like time had stopped in the aftermath of her outburst. Tom was overcome with pure shock as he watched her standing there, still seething. He had never seen her so furious with anyone, certainly not him.

Then came the profound, gut-wrenching guilt. He had done this. There was no room for his own anger any longer.

His limitless pride, selfishness, and temper had been the cause and this was exactly the sort of thing he had been so worried about when they first went steady. He loathed himself for the hurt he saw in her eyes and vowed never to allow it to happen again.

He reached out to touch her arm and she jumped away as if he had scalded her. "Rose," he said quietly.

She crossed her arms and glared at him. The degree to which he had hurt her was still hitting him.

"I'm sorry, I-" he faltered, not knowing quite what to say.

The way she was looking at him terrified him; it made him think that he might be extremely close to losing her. He couldn't let that happen. He _had _to say something.

Then, everything came out at once: "Rosemary, I don't think you're stupid, silly, or foolish. Not at all. This entire situation is _my_ fault and I'm sorry I took it out on you…If you wish for me to leave, I'll do so."

Her gaze softened slightly. "You don't have to leave."

He was instantly somewhat relieved. At least she didn't hate him entirely. Although, he probably would have stayed regardless of her answer. Tom held out his hand again and this time she hesitantly took it, allowing him to pull her back to the bed.

"What are we going to do?" she asked.

"…I don't know." But he knew he couldn't lose her. Just a moment ago, he thought he might and it was the worst he had ever felt.

Suddenly, all he wanted was to be close to her. He wanted to be close and to drown out their despairing thoughts. Tom leaned forward and kissed her. His mind slowly began to go blank as lips pressed more and more passionately against hers. He pushed her onto her back and climbed on top of her, exploring her mouth with his tongue and burying his hands in her hair.

It was going so well until he was trailing his lips down her neck and she tried to push him away. "Tom, stop…"

He did, and looked up at her. "Why?"

"This isn't a solution."

"No," he ceded. "But we'll think of something in time."

"We're running out of time." She bit her lip and sighed. "When Markus and I broke things off, I made a deal with my parents that I would find someone suitable before we graduated from Hogwarts. If I don't…they'll make the choice for me."

This new bit of information was enough to make his head start pounding; honestly, could their situation actually get any worse? Still, he had come to accept the fact that he was responsible for their predicament and he would take it upon himself to find a solution. He didn't want her to worry any longer; he had put her through enough already. Somehow, no matter the cost, he would find a way to charm her parents and convince them that he was essentially a pureblood.

"It's over a year away," he told her gently. "I'll think of something." He looked into her eyes, which were swimming with reservations. "Do you trust me?"

She still looked hesitant, but she nodded anyway.

"Good. Try not to think about it any longer."

"That's much easier said than done," she said with a sigh.

"Well, wouldn't you know it…I already _have_ a solution for that problem." He smirked and kissed her again, feeling pleased when she didn't try to push him away.

Tom felt her begin to lose herself in the moment as well when she began to kiss him harder, holding his face against hers with her small hands. He tugged at the bow on the front of her bathrobe and it fell open easily. She got to work on his clothes, still somewhat damp from the rain, while his hands traced her smooth skin up and down.

She pulled off his shirt and attempted to tug down his pants, but there was only so much she could do on her own. He stood to assist her in her pursuits, casting each article of clothing aside while she untangled herself from her robe. They climbed beneath her blankets and embraced once more and felt their naked bodies press against each other for the first time.

Rose sounded giddy and he was convinced that he had sufficiently distracted her from her worries: "You're always so cold! It feels wonderful."

"And you're always warm." It was true – the warmth of her skin was almost enough to make him sleepy.

He allowed his hands to roam wherever they pleased: her round, supple breasts, the smooth curve of her hips, the enticing place between her thighs. He kissed down her neck and to her chest, glancing up at her as he pressed his tongue to one of her bright pink nipples. He flicked it with his tongue and she made a pleasant noise when he bit it lightly. While his fingers pleasured the other, her hands seemed to touch every part of him that she could reach. He was addicted to the way she touched him.

Tom slid his fingers down her stomach and he pushed apart her legs slightly to allow his exploration to continue. Though he had felt her there several times in the past couple of months, each time seemed as enthralling and sensational as the first. Rose moaned softly as he glided his finger between the first two folds and circled her tiny, raised peak; it never failed to elicit such a reaction and, as such, it was one of his favorite places to touch her.

He moved his hand down further, tracing the outside of her opening before carefully sliding a finger inside. She closed her eyes and gasped into his ear, pulling his head away from her breasts and up to her mouth. She nibbled on his ear and kissed the side of his jaw, which sent nice waves of pleasure down his spine. He felt her wetness increase exponentially as his finger explored her. The moans were growing louder and he moved his finger more swiftly, eager to see her approaching climax.

But then she did something he hadn't anticipated: she pushed his hand away from her. "Not yet," she said in a teasing voice while recovering her breath. He exhaled sharply as she then reached down and stroked him. It was such a delicious sensation and it drove him entirely mad. He wanted her, _all _of her. He wanted to be as close as he possibly could to her.

It took nearly all his willpower, but he removed her hand from him. She gave him a puzzled look, but she quickly realized what he was doing when he spread apart her legs and positioned himself between them. He kissed her forcefully and teased her opening with his member. She was so wet he could barely contain himself.

But, he forced himself to pause and look into her eyes. "We don't have to do this, if you aren't ready."

Her pleading eyes told him she wanted it just as much as he did, but he needed to hear it from her. "I want it," she whispered.

Tom realized that he actually quite enjoyed hearing her say it. "What _exactly_ do you want?" he teased, pressing himself close to her.

"I want you to take me."

He smirked. "Are you _sure_?"

"Yes," she said as she squirmed beneath him impatiently.

Tom was satisfied enough and ached too much for her to continue their game. Another time, perhaps. Finally, he slowly pressed himself inside of her.

She let out a scream and he looked at her in alarm. "It's alright," she said. "Keep going."

He was glad she said so because this was the best feeling he had ever experienced. The feeling of her wrapped around him was completely overwhelming and electrifying. He didn't think it could feel any better until he pressed himself all the way into her. She gasped sharply and he hoped he wasn't hurting her, but at this point it felt impossible to stop. He began thrusting in and out of her and groaned in pleasure as she wrapped her legs around his back, allowing him to deepen his thrusts.

They moved in a rhythm together, the pace quickening every few moments. Fortunately, she now seemed to be enjoying it fully; her face showed no indication of pain. Tom was too lost in the moment to have any idea how long they had been at it. He felt himself growing close to his climax. He was sweating and panting and moved even faster.

"Oh, Tom!" Rose moaned loudly. Her nails dug into his back and he felt her contract around him, giving into her orgasm. It was just enough to send him over the edge.

"Rose," he groaned. His arms felt weak as he thrust himself into her a few more times before finally allowing himself to finish inside of her.

He collapsed on the bed next to her, completely exhausted. She curled up next to him and kissed his face as he closed his eyes and attempted to regain his breath. When he opened them once more, she was watching him. Her hair was even more wild and untamed than before; he found it outrageously attractive.

Tom put his arm around her and she rested her head on his chest. He looked up at the ceiling. "I hope I didn't hurt you…"

"Only a bit at first, but that's to be expected," she said, sounding as exhausted as he felt. "Just so you know, I had them cast the Contraceptive Charm last summer when I had my yearly at St. Mungo's."

He had been so caught up in everything that it had failed to cross his mind, but her words were a relief nonetheless. "I see." Then he smirked as a few satisfying realizations dawned on him. "Do you know what this means?"

"Hm?" she looked up at him in sweet curiosity.

He looked down at her with a gratified smirk. "You're mine now, Miss Horton. Completely and utterly mine. And I'm going to take great pleasure in fucking you senseless as often as I wish."

* * *

"_They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered." – F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

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	22. Part I - On Edge

On Edge

_May 5, 1944_

"Books and notes away, class. Please take out your quills and we'll begin the ex-" Professor Thomson was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" His voice was annoyed and impatient at the disturbance.

Abraxas stuck his head inside and said, "Excuse me, Sir. Headmaster Dippet requested to see Tom Riddle."

The Professor looked at Tom and sighed. "Run along, then. You'll have to stop by my office this weekend to take your exam."

Tom nodded and went into the hall, where Abraxas was waiting for him. The fifth year attempted to explain: "I was finishing my rounds with Walburga near his office when he stopped me in the hall. He wouldn't say what it was about, but he asked her to fetch Horton from Divination."

Tom said nothing in response. If it had only been he that was summoned, he wouldn't have worried; he met with Dippet at least somewhat often. But now that he knew Rose would be there as well, his mind was suddenly filled with the worst possible scenarios.

Perhaps word had gotten around that she rarely slept in her own bed anymore, even during the week. It had become her habit over the past month to sneak into his dormitory after Avery and Lestrange were asleep. Or, perhaps someone had caught them sneaking into the Room of Requirement when they were supposed to be completing their rounds.

He cursed his inability to keep his hands off her ever since she had fully given herself to him. Then again, he wasn't alone in the blame. She was always there, tempting and corrupting him. Before Rose, he never would have broken the rules so blatantly.

Regardless of blame, Dippet was notoriously strict and wouldn't stand for such behavior; especially from Prefects. His stomach dropped as he realized he would likely be turning in his Prefect badge in less than an hour's time. Their chances at Head Boy and Girl would be shot to hell. Then, of course, there would also be a letter to her parents and their subsequent wrath.

They reached the Grand Staircase and Abraxas paused. "Well, I'll see you at Dueling Club this evening."

Tom nodded, attempting to keep himself composed even though he suddenly felt quite ill. It seemed so odd to think of Dueling Club, or anything else for that matter, now that everything he had worked for in the past few years was about to be dismantled before his very eyes.

He finally reached the Headmaster's office; as Dippet was expecting them, the familiar gargoyle stepped aside without a password. His mind was spinning as he opened the door and saw Dippet sitting at his desk with Rose seated across from him. He felt so intrinsically certain that the scenario he had envisioned was exactly what was about to happen.

"Good morning, Mr. Riddle. Please close the door behind you."

Tom did so and swallowed; his mouth was suddenly very dry. The Headmaster gestured at the seat next to Rose. He sat and she turned to him, giving him a bright smile.

_Oh, Rosemary…do you have any idea what is about to happen?_

"Thank you both for meeting with me this morning," Dippet began. He sat back in his chair and stroked his long, white beard. "You've both been doing quite well this term. Do you feel prepared for your upcoming exams?"

Tom wished that the small talk would be abandoned so they could just get it over with.

Unfortunately, Rose didn't appear to be on the same page and indulged Dippet's chatter: "They will certainly be challenging, but I'm so happy to have Tom to study with."

_Please stop, you're making it worse…_

Some of his panic must have shown through because she gave him a puzzled look.

"You two _do_ spend a great deal of time together, so I've come to notice…"

_Oh no…No, please, no…_

"Normally, we tend to avoid choosing a couple for these positions, but there is no one more qualified at Hogwarts than the two of you."

_What?_

"We've finally concluded our deliberations and I am pleased to inform you that you will be serving Hogwarts as Head Boy and Head Girl next year."

He had been so sure that they were in some sort of trouble that it took a few seconds to fully comprehend what Dippet was telling them.

Rose giggled excitedly and shook the Headmaster's hand. "Sir, this is such _splendid_ news! Thank you!"

Tom composed himself as the news began to sink in. "Thank you, Headmaster Dippet," he breathed, taking his turn to shake the old man's hand.

"Congratulations to both of you. I've spoken with Miss Duprie and Mr. Bryan and they'll meet with you both later tonight to schedule your training. Seven o'clock in the Arithmancy classroom, I believe."

As soon as they stepped outside his office, Rose threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "What a relief!" She pulled away from him and paused, giving him a satisfied smile. "Although, I shouldn't be surprised: it _had_ to be us. You and I are such an unstoppable pair."

_Unless your parents are involved…_he thought, but he bit his tongue instead of saying it aloud as he didn't want to spoil her good mood. He envied her blithe nature, as though the situation with her parents was the furthest thing from her mind. Perhaps, though, she simply didn't feel the need to worry because he had promised that he would find a solution. There was no way to know for sure; the subject had become taboo since the night at her home in Weybridge.

Meanwhile, it constantly ebbed at him. For the first time in his life, he felt as though he were in over his head and hadn't a clue what to do about it. Sure, he had charmed countless people over the years, but this was different. He had never charmed anyone that blatantly disliked him. In fact, the only other person that he knew disliked him was Dumbledore, and Tom had simply given up attempting to gain his favor long ago. But it wasn't even that they disliked him; he was flying in the face of their beliefs. Beliefs that he also believed in.

It was so utterly conflicting and he couldn't even begin to make a plan of how to proceed. As a result, he had become increasingly paranoid in the past few weeks, feeling like he may lose her at little more than a moment's notice. Even though he was immensely relieved and delighted that they had been chosen as Head Boy and Girl, he couldn't help but feel pessimistic, as if it were all temporary and unstable. He hated it. He didn't want Rose to be a fluctuating part of his life; he wanted her to be constant. She was the first and only person he wanted to share anything with. The thought of giving her up had become unbearable.

"Tom? Are you alright?" Her voice was laced with worry. "I thought you'd be more excited…"

"Of course I'm excited." He attempted to sport an assuring smile as he leaned in to kiss her forehead.

This was yet another unpleasant side effect that had come about as of late. He was constantly forced to choose between lying and discussing the problem directly. Neither option was attractive, but at least this way, she could be happy instead of falling prey to his toxic cynicisms. That didn't change the fact that he hated lying to her, though.

Judging by the students that had suddenly swarmed the halls, their first class of the morning had ended. "I have to go pick up my things from Divination," she told him. Then she donned a smirk: "Congratulations again, Head Boy." Tom smiled at her as she turned away; the news was beginning to sink in and fortunately, he was beginning to feel a bit more at ease after his short-lived panic.

As he had brought his books with him from Ancient Runes, he began down the Grand Staircase to head to Herbology. It was a class that he wished the Ravenclaws shared with the Slytherins so that he could be Rose's partner instead of Cramer. But, then again, she had told him several stories about Warren's lack of talent in the class. If partnering in a class with him made her think Warren was a complete idiot – and rightfully so – Tom supposed he didn't mind it that much.

"Hey, Riddle!" He turned in the direction of the high-pitched voice that he recognized all too well.

"Donohue," he nodded in greeting.

"I just ran into Rose and she told me the news! That's just perfect! Her parents will be thrilled, I'm sure."

He narrowed his eyes at her; he was growing tired of her little off-handed comments. He might not have minded beating her at her own game if he didn't have the situation with Rose's parents to worry about. Thanks to her.

Tom took her by the wrist and pulled her into a nearby classroom, assuming that it was unused by the lack of students trickling in. She looked startled by his rash action and it sparked his temper. Did she honestly think he would just keep letting her get away with her snide remarks?

She folded her arms over her chest and smirked at him. "Now Tom, people will talk…even _you _should know that." The look she gave him was almost convincingly innocent. "I don't think Rose would be very happy with that."

"Well you'd love _that_ wouldn't you?" he growled.

She shot him an infuriatingly puzzled look.

"Donohue," he lowered his voice to its most menacing tone, "I simply do not have _time_ to play your little games. Thanks to you, I'm a bit preoccupied in dealing with Rosemary's parents. Now, if you say _anything _about this to her or anyone else for that matter, I assure you, you will not like what follows. Don't start a war with me."

"Wait…what? Meeting her parents didn't go well?" There it was again: that annoying, fake voice of innocence. He had already called her bluff; why didn't she just admit it at this point?

"You know all about that, don't you?"

"Not really...Rose hasn't mentioned anything. Is it because you don't play Quidditch?"

This encounter was beginning to try his patience in ways he never thought possible. He began reaching for his wand, nearly ready to fire a curse or two at her.

"I can't believe she didn't tell me." Faye shook her head. "She really loves you, you know. I can't say that I was thrilled when you first went steady, but I can tell how happy she is when I see the way she looks at you. I _am_ sorry to hear that, though."

He faltered for a moment, allowing her words to sink in. Had he really been _this_ far off? Suddenly, as he pondered everything that had involved Donohue's comments over the past few months, he realized that there was actually no concrete evidence that she had any ill-intentions toward his relationship with Rose. Things _could _have been explained by coincidence. But, he had to be sure. Such a task would have been much easier if he had been able to master legilimency by now; unfortunately, he had been much too preoccupied with the Hortons to do so. Questioning her would have to suffice.

"Is that why you so conveniently reminded her to introduce us?" he said suspiciously.

Faye furrowed her eyebrows. "I didn't. I only asked if they had met you."

"And your little comment in the hall just now? It certainly seems as though you had _some_ sort of idea that things didn't go well." He narrowed his eyes at her again.

"What, when I said her parents would be happy to hear? They _will _be happy, Riddle! She was made Head Girl, after all."

He sighed. Apparently he had vastly overestimated her as of late; she was just as vapid as he had originally thought. He hated being wrong, so the realization came as a sickening feeling. It was the second time that day his intuition had failed him because of his mounting paranoia.

"Well, are you going to tell me what you did to make them dislike you?"

"No," he snapped.

"That's fine," Faye shrugged. "I'll just ask Rosie about it later."

His anger exploded once more. This time, he grabbed his wand and pointed it toward her the most threatening fashion he could. "No. You will do no such thing. As I said before, you aren't going to tell _anyone _about our little talk. Especially not Rose. Do you understand?"

She rolled her eyes slightly. "She's my best friend. Honestly, what are you going to do if I ask her? Jinx or hex me?"

His voice grew icy, but calm and even. "If I need to." Then a small smirk appeared on his face. "There's always your precious Adam…It would be so unfortunate if any harm were to come to him. Who knows what I'll be forced to resort to if you choose to open your mouth. You'll do well to remember the advice I gave you: don't start a war with me."

The fear in her eyes was evidence that he had sufficiently startled her. The ridiculous confidence that she so often wore had fallen. His eyes stared into hers and she glanced away, turning to leave. "I have to get to class," she mumbled.

"We aren't quite finished." He caught her by the wrist and aggressively yanked her back into the room. His grip tightened and he realized he could easily break her wrist in one quick motion. Perhaps he would, if she failed to appease his demands. "Have we reached an understanding?"

When she looked up at him again, he could see the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "Yes." Her voice trembled.

Her feebleness made him loathe her even more than before.

"Excellent," he said as he released her with satisfaction. She didn't dare turn back to glance at him before darting out.

* * *

When Rosemary entered her dormitory after lunch, Emily pointed to a long package at the end of her bed. "The house-elves brought it up here since you skipped breakfast."

"Thanks." When she saw the size of the box, there was no question in her mind as to what it was. As she tore into the brown paper wrapping that covered it and saw the familiar _Comet Trading Company _logo, her suspicions were confirmed.

"New model?" Not even Emily was surprised.

"The Comet 187," Rose sighed. She didn't know why her father insisted in sending her the newest version of each broom he made. They were essentially all the same to her, not to mention the fact that she had received at least two brooms a year since her first year in school. Who actually needed that many broomsticks? Rose didn't play Quidditch. She didn't even enjoy _flying_ for Merlin's sake. Heights made her unbearably nauseous.

She opened the accompanying note from her father.

_Dear Rosemary,_

_I hope you're enjoying the newest Comet. As you know, it will enter stores next week. Graduation is quickly approaching and the parents will soon flock to Diagon Alley to find the perfect gift. I'm sure they'll stop in our showroom if it catches the eyes of the graduates. Perhaps take some time to fly it around Hogwarts and drum up some envy?_

_It's unfortunate that I have to bring up such a thing, but your mother has been quite anxious since your last visit home. I hope that you have good news for her when you return home for the summer._

_Love always,_

_Dad_

She crumpled up the note in frustration and threw it in the bin near her desk. Bringing "good news" clearly translated to: "find a more suitable match and stop seeing Tom Riddle, if you haven't already."

Their luckless state of affairs had plagued her mind constantly in the past month. However, she certainly didn't want to keep reminding him of it. Nor did she want him to think that she didn't trust him to find a solution. Therefore, she had resorted to avoiding the topic with Tom at all costs and parading a cheerful, fake demeanor. It was exhausting and torturous. She wanted to trust him, but didn't know how. It was something she had been struggling with tremendously, as trusting him with everything _else_ was so easy.

She had noticed small changes in him and could tell that the situation was affecting him just as profoundly. He was much more on-edge and not nearly as playful as before. Even when they had been made Head Boy and Girl that morning, his reaction was a minuscule fraction of the enthusiasm she had expected. It hurt, knowing that he was so troubled. She couldn't help but feel incredibly guilty.

Rose felt a sudden impulse to get outside for some fresh air. Fortunately, as it was Friday, it meant a short day in terms of classes; she was already finished and had a few hours before meeting up with Tom for her ongoing private dueling lessons. She grabbed the broom with the intent to drop it by the Quidditch supply shed. Then at least someone would get some use out of it.

She reached the castle's lawn and started toward the Quidditch pitch. Dozens of girls had donned skimpy bathing suits and were tanning near the edge of the Black Lake while the boys admired them. One of the girls had platinum blonde hair that the sun shone brilliantly off of. When she turned to speak to her nearby friend, Rose saw that it was Olive Hornby.

She remembered, suddenly, that she hadn't asked Tom about the "situation" with Hornby that Rebecca had brought up at the party weeks before. It seemed so inconsequential now that her parents were posing a somewhat immediate threat to their happiness. Besides, it wasn't as though she was actually worried that Tom had done something wrong; she knew that she could trust him, especially in terms of the other girls that were interested in him at Hogwarts (and they were many).

"Horton!" she heard a familiar voice call from the water's edge.

Rose turned her head to see Warren wave and begin jogging over to her.

"I heard the news. You and Tom, Head Girl and Boy…Never would have guessed it." He winked at her. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," she smiled, but felt conflicted as to what to say. She felt obligated to say something polite along the lines of: 'I'm sorry you weren't chosen', but thought it might make things uncomfortable. Not to mention the fact that it wasn't true; she wasn't sorry at all that Tom was chosen instead of him.

Thankfully, he was sufficiently awed by the broom in her hands so they didn't linger on the subject. "Is that the new Comet?!" he asked her excitedly, bending down to inspect it carefully. "The 187…I've been dying to see it."

"It is," Rose smiled, handing it over to him. He took it enthusiastically. "You can be the first to fly it, if you'd like."

"Really?! Horton, that's bloody amazing."

She smirked and mentally rolled her eyes. What was it with these boys and broomsticks?

Warren got on and rose into the air, flying slowly at first to test the broom's various features, such as the patented Horton-Keitch Braking Charm. He gave her a thumbs-up, looking impressed. Then he picked up the pace, racing past her so quickly that it created a breeze.

Finally, he swooped down and stopped next to her. "It's brilliant, Rose."

"My father will be pleased." She smiled at him.

Warren suddenly looked very nervous, as he hovered near her. "There's something I've been meaning to ask…You don't have to answer this if it makes you uncomfortable, but do you think he's still hiring any interns for this summer? I'm very interested in broom engineering and I haven't heard back yet…"

It was so rare to see Warren's confidence falter and it took her by surprise. "I'm sure he just hasn't gotten around to reviewing applications yet," she attempted to reassure him. "They've been busy with the new model and all-"

"Oh, yes, of course," he said quickly. "I'm sorry, I should have thought of that."

"I'll speak with him about it," Rose continued.

"I could never ask you to do that…"

She realized that she felt a little guilty that he hadn't been chosen for Head Boy and had been such a good sport about it. Perhaps this would cheer him up somewhat. "You're surely more qualified than many of the others – it certainly looked like you knew what you were doing up there." She pointed at the sky, where he had just been methodically inspecting the broom.

"I've had a bit of practice," he said modestly.

"Well, I'm certain my father will be very impressed. Besides, he _likes_ you Warren. You've met him several times. He's seen you _play _several times. Even if I didn't say anything, I doubt you'd have much to worry about."

Warren suddenly looked extremely content upon hearing her words. It made her happy, too, to be able to make someone else happy. It was a moment of reprieve from her own reality, which was currently in shambles.

"Don't you want to take a turn on it?" he asked her.

"I'm not much of a flier, you know that."

"The daughter of one of the best broom manufacturers in the world doesn't like to fly. I just don't understand it." He shook his head and laughed lightly. "Well, you don't have to fly. Hop on, I'll do the flying and you can enjoy the view." Warren tapped the broom in front of him as though it were a perfectly comfortable seat. Rose wasn't fooled; she knew it wasn't comfortable at all.

Plus, she knew that he would race her around in an attempt to show off and she would certainly be sick. "No thank you," she told him.

He laughed heartily. "Come on! Live a bit, Horton."

She felt eyes watching her and she glanced to her left, toward the greenhouses and saw Tom walking from his Herbology class, staring daggers at them both. But why? Was he _jealous _that she was talking with Warren? The entire possibility seemed incredulous.

"I should go," she said.

Warren followed her gaze, but his voice was as casual and nonchalant as usual, revealing no evidence of unease because of Tom's glare. "Of course."

He began to lower the broom to the ground and stepped off of it before holding it out to her. She shook her head. "Keep it. Like I said, I'm not much of a flier. I'm sure he'll outfit the entire team with them next season anyway."

"You're marvelous."

Rose smiled and waved goodbye as she strode across the lawn to meet Tom. She had hoped that, perhaps, her eyesight had merely betrayed her and she had imagined his cold look. Unfortunately, he seemed rigid and didn't bother to bend his neck to meet her lips like he always did when she stood on her toes to kiss him. "How was Herbology?" she asked.

"Fine."

Well, clearly something was wrong. "You're upset."

"No I'm not," he snapped as he began walking toward the castle.

Rose had to break into a bit of a jog to keep up with his long strides. "Am I really supposed to believe that?"

"Yes."

"Well, I don't…" She stopped. Their morning had been so pleasant, what with finding out about their Head Boy and Girl positions. This was the only time she had seen him since then; perhaps it_was_ jealousy. "Does this have anything to do with the fact that I was just talking with Warren?"

He spun around to face her. "What are you insinuating?"

"Nothing. It's just…you were fine this morning…"

"So you assume that I'm jealous of _Cramer_? That mindless fool?"

She felt a momentary impulse to defend him; they _were_ friends after all, and she didn't think he was a 'mindless fool' by any means. But she also knew that voicing this would be a terrible mistake to Tom. "No, I'm not saying that. It's just the way you were looking at us." She touched his arm, attempting to speak in her most soothing voice.

He sighed. "I haven't been feeling like myself lately." Then she saw it again: that worry in his beautiful, dark brown eyes.

"I know." Rose reached up and touched his cheek. Now it was her turn to reassure him and make a promise she was unsure she could keep, though she would desperately try everything in her power to do so: "Everything will work out, Tom. You'll see."

* * *

"_Uncertainty is the biggest torture in love." – Anonymous_

* * *

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	23. Part I - The Pretentious Git

The Pretentious Git

_May 20, 1944_

She nuzzled her face against his neck, basking in the sweet scent of his skin. "Do we have to do training today?" she groaned.

"Yes." Even though she wasn't looking at him directly, she could tell that he was smirking from the tone of his voice.

"Are you sure? We could go again, you know…" she grasped his hand and guided it past her stomach, all the way to the tremendously wet place between her legs.

He gently touched her in many of the places that she loved to be touched. As she fought a moan, he murmured in her ear: "While I must admit that is quite tempting, we'll have to settle for another time."

She often found herself wondering how someone attractive as he was could possibly be human. And, although sex with him had been rather painful the first time, it had certainly become one of her favorite activities.

Tom removed his hand from her as he stood to search for his clothes and she groaned at his cruelty. However, even with all her complaints, she felt quite grateful at the fact that things had improved markedly between them over the last couple of weeks. While they still hadn't broached the topic of her parents directly, things seemed to be returning to the way they had been before the entire encounter.

"Just think," he smirked at her, "next year when we're Head Boy and Girl, we won't need to sneak into the Room of Requirement anymore or wait until Avery and Lestrange fall asleep."

"It can't come soon enough," she sighed, rolling over to the edge of the bed and looking at him upside-down as he dressed.

"Well, in order for it to happen, we have to complete our trainings."

She forced herself out of bed; he was right, of course. Besides, today was their last one and it would be nice to get them over with. Not only had they taken up much of their free time over the past couple of weeks, it was also rather awkward and uncomfortable given that their seventh-year mentors didn't seem to be too fond of them. Josephine didn't like Tom because he was a Slytherin and she a Gryffindor; Vincent didn't like Rose because she hadn't taken her role as a Prefect very seriously. Still, that didn't change the fact that they were actually the most qualified in their year. Josephine and Vincent would just have to accept it and move on.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived in the classroom where they had been meeting the current Head Boy and Girl regularly. Both of them looked rather cross at their late arrival, even though the clock on the wall told her that they were only one or two minutes tardy.

"Have a seat." Vincent gestured to the rows of desks.

Tom and Rose sat next to each other and Josephine began: "Right, so today we're talking about the importance of bonding with your team of Prefects as well as the student body as a whole." She started reaching for a piece of chalk.

Rose stifled a groan and exchanged a glance with Tom. First of all, the topic was just as mundane as the rest of their trainings, if not more so. Second, each time Duprie had a piece of chalk in her hand, it was an awful sign. It meant list upon mind-numbing list. More specifically: lists with an overabundance of acronyms they would never actually need.

"Is there a problem, Horton?" Vincent asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Not at all." She smiled at them both sweetly, but glared at each of them when they turned to face the board. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Tom was trying not to smile.

As she had predicted, several lists were created, but she paid little attention to each. Instead, Rose trained her eyes on a spider crawling on the wall above the board so that she would be the first to know if it decided to get any closer to her.

Their final training had been as equally dull as the others, but finishing it had generated a much more exquisite feeling. As Josephine erased her chalkboard ramblings, Vincent delivered some closing words: "Well, hopefully you both feel prepared to address and guide the Prefects while on the Hogwarts Express and over the course of the next term." He pursed his lips to pause and looked at Rose as if he were waiting, one last time, for her to say there had been some sort of misunderstanding and she hadn't actually been chosen for Head Girl. When she disappointed him with silence yet again, he continued: "I'm sure you'll do a fine enough job."

It wasn't very inspiring, but she'd take it.

On their way out of the room, Josephine asked, "Will we see you at Slughorn's later?"

Rose was reminded once more of the odd dynamics between the four of them when she realized that Josephine's question had only been directed at her, not Tom. She wasn't sure if he'd noticed; nor was she sure that he would be particularly bothered by it if he did, but she smiled and said, "Yes, we'll be there. It's our last meeting of the year after all, so I'm sure Slughorn will invite someone especially interesting."

Josephine nodded thoughtfully. "That's certainly true." She and Vincent turned toward the Grand Staircase and she said over her shoulder, "We'll see you later then!"

Rose waved at them and lingered at the base of the stairs with Tom. As soon as they were out of earshot, she said, "Merlin, I'm glad that's over. I didn't learn a damn thing from them over the past two weeks." With a sigh, she added her attempt at optimism: "Well, perhaps it will feel like it was worth it when we receive our badges in the post this summer."

He smirked and reached up, gently running his hand over her hair. "Even if we did learn something, it wouldn't matter. We aren't going to do things the way they did; we'll do things our own way. Hogwarts will be a much better place by the time we're through with it."

Rose looked up at him happily; she knew that his words were true, but it was delightful to hear him say them aloud. Getting named a Head was spectacular in itself and the fact that she could share it with Tom made it all the more incredible. It occurred to her long ago that anything she wanted to do in life sounded infinitely better if she would be able to share it with him. Perhaps, she thought, that was exactly what love was all about.

Later that evening, as they mingled with the other students in Slughorn's office, she still felt as if they were on top of the world. Next year, the school would be theirs. The rest of the school seemed to know it, too: both of them had gotten more popular since the news of their appointment had spread. It seemed as though everyone was suddenly attempting to win their favor, likely in hopes of attaining the perks that came with befriending the Head Boy or Girl.

As it was the last Slug Club meeting of the year, Slughorn had decided to throw a mixer rather than his traditional dinner. Hors d'oeurves were floating about on giant silver trays, as though invisible waiters were carrying them through the air. Rosemary thought it was a bit of a tacky touch; hiring actual workers would have been much more tasteful, but the party was only a small gathering of students anyway. Slughorn probably didn't feel the need to impress them more than he already had by providing free food as well as liquor for the of-age attendees.

She prepared a gin and tonic for herself and fetched a glass of scotch for Tom, who was in the middle of discussing the Dueling Club with Antonin Dolohov.

"Do you think we should hold tryouts for first string next Friday?" the younger wizard asked.

Tom sipped his scotch and looked at him harshly. "And risk certain members placing in first string on a fluke? I should think not."

"No, of course not," Dolohov said quickly. Rose couldn't help but admire the fact that he, like so many people at the school, unconditionally respected everything that Tom said. "Well, who are you going to choose then?"

He answered instantly; clearly he had given it quite some thought before this moment: "Students at Koldovstoretz train primarily in offensive dueling and we're matched with them first. We'll need the members that have a strong defensive foundation to make it through the initial rounds…I was thinking Avery, Malfoy, MacDougal, Crabbe, Greengrass, Urquart, and Parkinson. The next rounds are against Beauxbatons, so strong offense will earn us the most points. We'll need you, Nott, Goyle, Carrow, Rowle, Yaxley, and me, of course."

There was something quite attractive about seeing him in charge, confidently strategizing his team to succeed in the upcoming dueling championship that would be hosted at Durmstrang. She wasn't offended when he hadn't listed her name with the others. Though she had improved at dueling because of his lessons, it would never be her passion. The only reason she even went to Dueling Club was to be supportive and to watch him instruct the others.

Slughorn cleared his throat. "Good evening, students. I certainly hope you're enjoying yourselves." There was a round of applause and the professor smiled proudly. "Excellent. Well, I'm sure many of you have been wondering who our guest of honor is this evening. He's an old friend and a proud alumnus of Hogwarts…"

As Slughorn carried on with his long-winded introduction of the surprise guest, Dolohov muttered under his breath, "Must be quite a pretentious git if he requires this sort of entrance…"

Tom smirked and Rosemary let out a quiet laugh; she had been thinking exactly the same thing.

"…some of you know him _quite_ well…"

Tom rested his hand on Rose's lower back and when she glanced to her left at him, she noticed that he was watching her with a hungry look in his eyes. Tom's eyes alone would have been a dead giveaway to what he was thinking, but the devilish smile that had formed left absolutely no room for questions. He was now clearly regretting that they hadn't gone again earlier that afternoon.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "You look ravishing. I do enjoy that dress on you."

It was dark green and tight to her curves; there was little wonder why he liked it.

"I like it so much that I might just fuck you in it later." He seemed to exude sensuality, mischievously teasing her in a room full of people. It was delicious torture. "I'll push it up just enough to have my way."

She bit her lip and smiled at her feet, feeling her face turn bright red.

"Without further ado, I'd like to introduce you all to the Co-founder of Comet Trading Company, Basil Horton!"

Any color that had appeared on Rose's face drained as they both snapped their heads up. Her father was there, standing in the doorway of Slughorn's office, staring right back at them. Rose was suddenly very conscious of how close she was standing to Tom and began to step away in a reflex-like motion. But then, a surprising thing happened. As if he suddenly felt very protective of her, Tom caught her hand, interlaced her fingers with his, and pulled her back to him. Rose looked up at his face in panic, but he was too busy staring at Basil with a look of confident defiance to notice.

* * *

It may have taken Tom some time to realize it, but the purebloods had a significant downfall, which he had actually seen as a strength until that very moment: by principle, they were unable to create a scene. He steadfastly grasped Rose's hand in his own, knowing full well that the older Horton wouldn't do anything about it.

They locked eyes for a moment, but Basil's were just as unreadable as his face. In was interesting, in a way, to see his cool nonchalance; if Rosemary was as angry as he surely was, it would have shown through, at least in her eyes. He wondered briefly if she had inherited the trait from her mother, or if hiding one's emotions was something that simply got easier with age.

Finally, he began addressing the crowd of students and his voice betrayed no indication of distress. "As Professor Slughorn mentioned, I've gotten acquainted with some of you through the Hogwarts Quidditch program. One of you, Warren Cramer, will actually intern with me this summer." He gave a nod to Cramer, who beamed back at him. Of course he chose him, of all people. Tom wouldn't have minded if it were literally anyone else, but there was something about Cramer being happy that aggravated him. "And, as many of you know, Hogwarts is also the home of my wonderful daughter Rosemary."

Tom felt her shift in discomfort next to him and he squeezed her hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dolohov glance at Rose and then to the floor, clearly embarrassed that he had unintentionally called her father a "pretentious git".

"When Comet was at its beginning stages, it took us one year and 139 models that weren't quite right before releasing a broom that fit our standards, the Comet 140. There is a lesson to be learned there, about perseverance and dedication. Chances are, if you're in this room tonight, you've displayed these attributes time and time again. I'm confident that you'll continue to excel in your studies at Hogwarts as well as your further pursuits. If I can give you one piece of advice, it is this: as you pursue your goals, you should not settle for model 57, 92, or even 139. It's up to you to find that perfect arrangement, your Comet 140, and build from there. If you let yourself get too distracted by the others, you'll never reach it."

Tom was not at all surprised that he had chosen broom models as his metaphor, but it was an unexpectedly good speech nonetheless. Although, he couldn't help but feel that the last sentence was aimed at Rosemary.

"On an entirely unrelated note, I'm sure you know that we released the Comet 187 early last week-" He was interrupted by scattered applause throughout the room. "After you're finished with school for the summer, I'd like to invite you all to our showroom in Diagon Alley, which is right next to Quality Quidditch Supplies. If you mention that you're part of the Slug Club, a store associate will allow you a free test flight on the new model. One more thing before you get back to your conversations: I'd like to thank Professor Slughorn for allowing me to join you this evening. It's always such a delight to see where Hogwarts is headed."

Tom sensed a small undertone of sarcasm in his final words, but it would have been essentially undetectable to everyone else. There was another bout of applause and the room slowly filled with chatter once more.

Dolohov turned to them and nervously ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry, Rosemary, I didn't mean to-"

"No," she stopped him. "It's okay. It was pretentious." Her voice was higher pitched than normal; Tom could sense her panic.

Dolohov smiled sheepishly at her and nodded before joining the conversation of a nearby group of Slytherins.

"It's alright," he told her, touching her arm gently. "He won't cause a scene when there are all these people around."

Rose nodded, though she looked increasingly unconvinced as her father began walking their way.

Tom braced himself for the worst as his eyes watched the man's stony face grow closer and closer to them through the crowd. He downed the rest of his scotch and set the empty glass on a nearby floating tray.

"Good evening, Rosemary," he greeted her, bending slightly to kiss her cheek.

"Father." Her voice wavered slightly.

"You look lovely as always, darling." He turned to Tom and stuck out a hand. "Tom…I heard you were made Head Boy. Congratulations."

He let go of Rosemary's hand momentarily to shake Basil's outstretched palm. Even though he had expected the phony nonchalance, it caught him off-guard to see it performed so masterfully. Even now, there was no trace of disdain in her father's eyes. "Would you mind terribly if I spoke with my daughter for a moment?"

Tom opened his mouth to protest, but Rosemary answered before he had the chance. "Of course, father."

He had forgotten that she had the same weakness as Basil, that desire to avoid any sort of dramatic encounter in a public setting. She started toward the door without daring to glance at Tom. Basil lingered behind for a moment, lowering his voice and allowing a spark of anger to flood his eyes momentarily. "It's rather funny, you know. I was under the impression that I advised you against seeing my daughter."

Tom wasn't afraid to stand up to him, though it was clear that people didn't often dare to cross Basil Horton. "You did. However, _Sir_, it should be abundantly clear by now that I haven't taken your advice." His lips curled into a sneer. It may have been a bit much, but he couldn't help it. He wasn't going to stand there and scorch in Basil's condescension.

Her father suddenly looked angry enough to hit him and Tom realized that Rose had _certainly _inherited her temper from him, whether she knew it or not. He had a familiar feeling that she rarely saw this side of him, as Basil clearly hid it better than she did.

He quickly composed himself once more and straightened his spine as though he wanted to look more imposing, but seeing as Tom was the same height as him, it had little effect. The anger drained from his face and he spoke in calm resolve: "Rose will come to her senses. All in due time, Tom Riddle."

Tom already didn't like his name, as it was a constant reminder of his father. But hearing Rosemary's father say it made it exceptionally worse; he knew that every time Basil said it this way, he was thinking of Tom's disgraceful, blood-traitor mother and filthy muggle father.

By this time, Rosemary had reached the door and turned to see that her father hadn't followed her. She stared back at them in horror and Basil strode toward her, ushering her outside of the room before anyone else could see her panicked expression.

Tom looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed the encounter, but the other students were sufficiently distracted by their own conversations. However, he suddenly felt eyes on his back and he turned around to see Slughorn standing a few feet behind him with a curious look on his face.

Tom averted his eyes and headed into the hall in an attempt to find where Basil had taken her and eavesdrop on their conversation if he could. He heard a door close around the corner and he quietly snuck up to it, pressing his ear against the wood.

Her voice was muffled, but it was certainly Rose: "I can't believe you! You came here just to spy on me!?"

Tom took out his wand and pressed the tip against the door, casting a modified amplifying charm in the small spot where he had placed his ear. It wouldn't do to amplify the entire door, as the entire corridor would have heard.

"It's not spying, Rose," Basil sighed. "Your mum has been quite worried about you, you know. Especially when we saw in the _Daily Prophet _that _that boy_ would be a Head with you next year."

"_That boy's_ name is Tom."

"Oh yes, that's right. Just like his repulsive, muggle father."

"Don't be cruel."

Her comment probably stung more than her father's. It profoundly bothered him to hear her defend him; he could defend himself, she had no need to be in such a position.

As she continued, this feeling didn't improve much. "Doesn't it mean something to you that he was made Head Boy? You _yourself_ were Head Boy at one time, so you know very well how prestigious an honor it is. I know you have a great deal of respect for Slughorn, too, and Tom is by far his favorite student! Oh, and _by the way_, he's the _heir of Slytherin._"

There was a pause, as though Basil had required a moment to compose himself. "Well, it's quite a shame that the bloodline of one of the most famous wizards of all time has been tainted. And clearly Slughorn doesn't know about his blood status - I'm sure he's lying to everyone else just as he did to us. As for his being named Head Boy, it's yet another reminder of how far standards have fallen since the time I was at Hogwarts," Basil spat. "Your mother was right; we should have sent you to the Salem Witches' Institute instead."

Tom could tell from the sound of her voice that she was rolling her eyes. "They have half-bloods and muggle-born there too."

"Half-blood and muggle-born _girls_ are much less damaging." Basil paused and his voice softened. "Can't you see that we worry about you, Rosemary? Who knows what kind of ideas someone like that is putting into your impressionable mind."

"He's not! And you say that like I'm stupid, like I can't think for myself."

"I'm not implying that you're stupid. You aren't. But you should be more wary of these young men. They'll manipulate you and you won't even know it. You're just a girl; how are you supposed to defend yourself from that? That's why your mother and I are looking out for your best interests."

Tom thought it was needlessly sexist to address her this way and it irritated him. He may have understood if she was one of the several hundred senseless girls at Hogwarts, but Rose was so very different. She was above them in every meaning of the word and just as clever as Tom was. How could her parents fail to see that?

Apparently it had bothered her, too: "It's great to hear that you think I'm so incapable of taking care of myself," she snapped. "Anyway, this isn't about that. Why can't you just give him a chance?"

Her father snorted. "You mean cast aside my entire system of beliefs so my daughter can have a meaningless fling that will never last? I think not."

"Why _wouldn't_ it last? I'm perfectly happy with him!"

"For now. But I guarantee that there would come a day when you'd realize what a mistake you made. By then you'd have matured enough to know that blood status is one of the most important things in this world. 'Happiness' only gets you so far. But by the time you finally realized it, it would be too late. Even if you left him, your beauty would have faded too much to secure a more suitable husband."

The words were chilling and Tom shivered accordingly. He couldn't help but to wonder if there was some truth behind them and _that_ was a genuinely terrifying thought. He stepped away from the door; suddenly he had no desire to hear her response or any other words that would be exchanged between them.

Tom returned to Slughorn's office, feeling empty and somewhat defeated. He was too lost in his own thoughts to notice that the professor was walking over to him. By the time he realized it, it was too late to escape. He gritted his teeth, knowing that Slughorn would bring up what he saw in his typical, prying way.

But the questions never came. The professor put his hand on Tom's shoulder, steering him toward the corner of the room. "Let's get you a drink, my boy."

* * *

"_I like large parties. They're so intimate. At small parties there isn't any privacy." ― F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please let me know what you think by submitting a review below.(: **

**This will probably come as good news: we're going to take a nice little break from the drama with the Hortons beginning next chapter! ALSO, next chapter is entirely Tom's POV. **

**Thank you times 12931587 for those of you that have followed and favorited! And thank you times 24918751 to Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, I thought I was the only one, RosiePosie15, CharlotteBlackwood, and annchenluischen for their reviews! :D**


	24. Part I - Ring A Bell?

Ring A Bell?

_June 3, 1944_

It was day three of the 847th Wizarding School Dueling Championship. Tom was the first off the boat that morning, though it was unsurprising: the violent waves that swayed the ship all night made it impossible to sleep. Clearly Durmstrang could have done a bit better in terms of guest accommodations. Nevertheless, he was having a rather enjoyable time. It was a much needed reprieve from the drama of Rosemary's family, not to mention the fact that Dueling was one of his favorite hobbies.

They had easily beaten Koldovstoretz and Beauxbatons in the initial rounds and triumphed over Mahoutokoro in the semi-finals. But today was the true test: the duels against Durmstrang for the champion title. Admittedly, it had come as a bit of a surprise that they had even made it that far. Hogwarts hadn't qualified for the competition in years, until Tom was made captain. And, even in the past few years that they did qualify, they had been eliminated in the first couple of rounds. Seeing as he had been made Captain at such a young age, it had taken him some time to learn how to effectively lead and instruct the team. But now, he finally seemed to be hitting his stride.

He wandered to the castle for his breakfast of pumpkin juice, as he was too nervous for the duels to eat much of anything else. Not that he was worried about _his_ duel; it was his teammates that he was worried about. They had improved markedly, but their performance was the one thing he couldn't control. Unfortunately, as it was a team duel, the points from each individual match would accumulate and determine the champion. Even if Tom won, there was a possibility that Hogwarts would place second. At least Dippet hadn't complained that Tom had brought the Slytherin members almost exclusively.

"You're Tom Riddle, aren't you?" Konrad Ljunggren, Durmstrang's dueling captain, sauntered up and sat down across from him at the table. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Ljunggren. I saw your duel against Tanaka yesterday. It was quite impressive, especially considering you're from Hogwarts."

Tom could sense the clear condescension in his voice and it didn't come as much of a surprise. Durmstrang offered mandatory classes in dueling, whereas it was a mere extracurricular at Hogwarts. Still, he couldn't help but feel defensive of the team he had cultivated.

"It's rather funny you mention that, because I seem to recall that Hogwarts is currently in first place," he said snidely. Granted, Durmstrang was only trailing them by a narrow margin, but they_were_ beating them nonetheless.

"I meant no offense," Konrad smirked with arrogance. He most certainly _did _mean offense. "I am quite looking forward to our duel later. You've proven yourself more than a worthy opponent."

As the captains of their respective schools, they were the only pair that was certain to be matched against each other. And, after meeting Ljunggren, he couldn't wait to wipe the arrogant smirk off his face. Durmstrang's captain would be in for a bit of a surprise: Tom hadn't even begun to employ his best dueling efforts in any of the matches so far and there were plenty of darker spells he had up his sleeve if necessary.

"I'm certainly looking forward to it as well." Tom smirked just as arrogantly and stood to leave. "I'll see you at one."

* * *

By the time they were facing each other on opposite ends of the dueling platform, the first and second round of duels had already taken place. Hogwarts was still in the lead, but Durmstrang had caught up slightly. While third round duels were still finishing up around the room at the same time, nearly the entire audience had gathered near the captains' platform. There were at least a dozen reporters in the first row and the flashes from all the cameras were blinding.

Admittedly, Tom was quite enjoying his moment in the spotlight. But, at the same time, there was a large part of him that was disappointed Rosemary wasn't there to experience the excitement. She would have loved it and it made him feel guilty for not inviting her. However, as there were only limited spots on the team, he needed to fill it with those who were truly dedicated to the sport. He had learned over the months that Rose certainly enjoyed watching him duel and wanted to improve her own technique, but had little interest in the competitive side of it.

Thinking of her inevitably led to thinking of her parents, and he wondered briefly how they would react when they saw his picture in the paper following the championship. Perhaps he would be one step closer to convincing them of his suitability for Rosemary. Or, perhaps more realistically, they would merely toss it in the fireplace and pretend they hadn't seen it.

Basil's words from the last Slug Club get-together were still haunting him. What if she _did_ change her mind and everything they had been through, every moment of stress in the past several weeks, was for nothing? He thought of this daily. As much as he hated to admit it, it was changing him, just as he had begun to change after the first encounter with her father. Tom was becoming increasingly possessive of her, growing more jealous than ever before whenever she spoke to any of their male classmates. Especially if they were of pureblood heritage. There were constantly thoughts of paranoia flying around in his head that made him wonder if she would simply give up on trying to be with him and see someone else. It would have been so much easier for her and he couldn't even blame her if that was what she wanted. He knew that she truly loved him and wanted things to work out (at least for the time being), but there was nothing he could do to stop his fears, especially when he thought in the longer term.

His emotions were spiraling out of control and each time he attempted to rein them back in, it seemed to get worse. He had come to realize that he had never really dealt with genuine feelings before her and had yet to learn how to fully control them. The only time he felt entirely at peace was when they were alone together: even through everything that had happened, she had retained her inexplicable ability to calm him.

But even that would soon become a luxury he no longer had. He and Rose both knew that during the summer, her parents would make it near impossible to see each other. Neither of them had any idea what to do about it, but school was quickly approaching its end. They had to figure out something, and fast.

He told himself that now wasn't the time to dwell on such matters. Allowing himself to pull back to the present, he noticed that the announcer had begun to speak: "As the third round has concluded, we will soon begin the final match between the Hogwarts Dueling Club Captain, Tom Riddle, and the Durmstrang Student Dueling Captain, Konrad Ljunggren. Final point tallies of each team and the winner of the 847th Wizarding School Dueling Championship. will be announced following the final match, due to a fair number of penalty deliberations."

There were cries of protest that filled the room; usually, the cumulative points for each school were reported after each round finished. If they were going to wait until the captains' duel was finished to announce them, there was no way of knowing that the winner of the final duel had actually won the school the team or not. It was a bit unsettling to know that if Hogwarts had fallen significantly behind Durmstrang, there was a chance that Durmstrang would still win if Tom beat Konrad.

He could have taken a good guess as to who was in the lead if he knew the source of the penalties, but he had taught his team to duel just as aggressively as Durmstrang's. Unfortunately, he had been too busy preparing for his own duel to watch any of them in the third round. As Tom had no concept whatsoever of the totals, he would just have to earn Hogwarts as many points as he possibly could.

The cries of the students began to subside and the announcer cleared his throat to speak once more: "As you know, the first to disarm will win their school one hundred points. The judges will assess if there any additional points that are earned throughout the match. Wands at the ready, gentleman!" As he began to count down, the crowd chanted with him: "Three! Two! One! Go!"

Tom was more than ready for the first few spells that Konrad fired at him, easily deflecting them and sending back plenty of his own. However, things began to escalate a bit more quickly than he had anticipated. Konrad was beginning to use darker jinxes and charms, some of which Tom had only read of and had yet to practice. It was rather refreshing, really, to duel someone that was at least somewhat close to matching his own abilities. He knew that it would make defeating the other captain even more enjoyable. Even so, he couldn't help but feel a shred of envy for the Durmstrang students, with the school's emphasis in teaching the Dark Arts. That certainly didn't change the fact that Tom had his own extensive knowledge of spells, though.

As per the rules of the championship, both of them were only allowed to perform twenty-five spells during the duel. If there was to be a winner of the match, it would need to be soon, as they had already expended nearly twenty spells each. It was shaping up to be his longest duel ever; he rarely cut it this close. Finally, after the multitude of spells that failed to make contact with the other, Tom partially hit the Durmstrang captain with an advanced binding jinx. It only affected Ljunggren's right leg, but it was enough to make him lose balance and begin to topple over on the platform. What Tom didn't expect, though, was when Konrad sent back another spell while he was in mid-fall. It was only a modified and slightly developed version of _Incendio_, a simple fire-making charm. But, as Tom's robes caught fire at the hem, it was enough of a distraction to give Ljunggren time to remove the jinx on his leg.

There was an easy extinguishing spell he could have performed, but didn't want to waste one of his few remaining spells if he didn't have to. His trousers hadn't even caught fire, so Tom simply slid out of his robes and tossed them on the side of the platform. He was vaguely aware of the surprised commotion as the burning cloth landed in the laps of a few observers in the first row, but he was too focused on the duel to pay it much mind.

For the split second of time before either of them resumed their aggressive battle, Konrad gave him a look of pure, smirking amusement. He was clearly pleased that his ploy to buy time had worked. Their remaining spells dwindled to one each and Tom rapidly searched his brain for some way to defeat the other captain; he knew he couldn't settle for a tie. He knew Konrad's weakness was in defensive magic, but that was generally a more difficult weakness to exploit in dueling.

_Unless…_

A realization suddenly dawned on him: during the entire duel, Ljunggren had used the same few, rather elementary, defensive spells. Each of these required him to have knowledge of the spells that Tom was casting in order to receive protection from them. He had invented several spells in his free time; what if he used one of those? Konrad was sure not to have heard of them, after all. It was risky, though: he hadn't tried any of them on humans yet, so it was difficult to predict exactly what might happen.

Nevertheless, his desire to win was far outweighing any reservations he had. He was quickly running out of time and needed to act before Konrad did, so he chose the first spell that came to mind.

"_Frangerous!_" Tom said with a violent flick of his wand.

The curse was supposed to break the other wizard's hand, forcing him to release his wand, but Tom watched with glee as it did one better. His prediction of Durmstrang's lack of defensive teachings had been proven correct. Konrad's mouth fell open and he stared down at the platform, where the top half of his wand was now laying. The room was silent for a moment as everyone seemed to be processing what had just occurred, but an eruption of cheers and applause from the crowd, with the exception of the Durmstrang students, began soon after.

"What a way to end the final match!" the announcer exclaimed.

Even though everyone else seemed to think he had won, Tom glanced at the nearby judges table, awaiting their verdict. His approach had certainly been rather unorthodox…Did breaking a wand in two constitute disarmament? For a fleeting moment, he thought he may no longer care if they disqualified him. Perhaps the satisfaction of seeing the way Konrad looked dumbly at his fragmented wand as he picked up the top piece off the ground, examining it in sheer disbelief, was worth it alone.

_What a ridiculous thought, _he inwardly scoffed at himself. Of _course_ he wouldn't be happy unless he won.

The five judges leaned their heads together and the rest of the crowd broke into whispers, apparently picking up on the fact that his victory had been uncertain. Finally, one of the judges, Bartek Maxim, stood and walked to join them on the platform, carrying with him an impressively large medal that Tom so wished would be his.

Bartek stood between the two contenders and gestured for them to join him in the middle. Tom's heart beat rapidly and the room quieted once more as their decision was declared: "Congratulations to Tom Riddle, the 847th Wizarding School Dueling Captain Champion!"

Tom was immediately filled with such a superb, triumphant feeling. He glanced at Konrad, who was glaring at him intensely, and sent him his most arrogant smirk. There was another bout of applause and Bartek presented him with the medal, sliding it over his head so it rested around his neck. They shook hands and the cameras clicked and flashed. His eyes scanned the crowd for Rosemary's beaming face and he had to remind himself again that she wasn't there.

He stepped from the platform and into the swarm of reporters, where he was immediately bombarded by their innumerable questions. They seemed to want to know anything and everything about him: where he learned his final spell, his favorite class, his plans after graduation. He might have stayed and entertained some of them, basking in his own glory a bit longer, but the announcer cut things short.

"The judges have also concluded their point deliberations!"

He worked his way through the crowd to the place where his fellow teammates were standing. When he joined them, several of them clapped his shoulder and said something along the lines of: "Excellent job, mate!"

The other judges had joined Bartek on the platform, carrying several medals and a gigantic, gleaming trophy.

"The winning team earned a whopping 1045 points over the course of the championship, with the runner-up earning 975. Without further ado, the winner of the 847th Wizarding School Dueling Championship is-"

Avery leaned toward Tom and said, "There's no way Durmstrang beat us. They were getting penalties left and right in the third round."

Tom smirked at him, still reeling from the thrill of his own success. At this point, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that Hogwarts had won.

"Durmstrang Institute!"

The host school cheered heartily while the Hogwarts team erupted into chaotic protests. Tom did nothing, standing there in complete shock. Surely, he had misheard.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"How in the hell-"

"It's rigged!"

"What happened to the penalties?!"

The uproar from the team intensified as the Durmstrang students joined the judges on the stage. Tom realized that there, in fact, _hadn't_ been a mistake and fury welled up inside of him. He stormed out of the castle; there was no way in hell he was going to stick around and see Ljunggren hold the trophy that should have been Tom's.

He walked briskly across the lawn, refusing to stop when he heard someone call after him. "Riddle! Riddle, wait up!"

Dolohov ran up beside him. "Those bloody wankers didn't deduct points for any of Durmstrang's penalties. That's the only reason they won."

"Fuck off, Dolohov."

"The whole thing was fixed. There's nothing any of us could have done-"

"I mean it. Fuck off."

Once again, he didn't listen: "Riddle, your duel was bloody amazing. I hope you don't think-"

"Get. Out. Of. My. Sight." Tom stopped walking and turned to him, utterly seething. His eyes narrowed dangerously. He didn't know what Dolohov had been about to say, but it didn't matter. Tom didn't have a damned clue _what_ to think.

Dolohov swallowed nervously and nodded. He didn't dare to follow Tom as he continued to walk toward the docks at the edge of the lake.

He reached the docks and felt like screaming, but he bit it back. When he leaned against the wooden railing, his medal clanked against it and he ripped it off his neck, throwing it as far as he could into the lake. He had hoped the action would make him feel at least marginally better, but it failed to do so. Then a sudden desire to hit something overwhelmed him, so he punched the railing as hard as he could.

"Oh, fucking hell!" he swore, looking down at his now-bloodied knuckles.

If anything, injuring himself had only served to make him even more irate and violent. He saw a fish swim out from underneath the dock.

Without thinking, he reached for his wand and pointed it at the creature. "_Crucio_," he said hoarsely.

The fish immediately began to squirm and flail about, clearly in too much pain to swim away. Tom was still enraged, of course, but oddly enough, seeing it struggle calmed him ever-so-slightly. It was an old trick to calm himself he hadn't used in years, before he even came to Hogwarts. But, of course, he hadn't known the spell as a child. Back then, long before he knew what he was doing was magic, whether or not he could create such a result was rather hit or miss. There was a bit of a comfort in knowing that his ability to cast certain spells had become a constant in his life, even though nothing else seemed to be.

As he continued to watch the fish writhe in pain, he began muttering to himself. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he would likely look insane to any onlookers, but everyone was surely still inside anyway. At the award ceremony. The award ceremony _his _team should have been a part of.

"Fucking Durmstrang scum…"

But as he said it out loud, he paused, realizing that he wasn't merely filled with hate for the other team. The fact that they had won wasn't actually the problem, when he really thought about it. No, it wasn't that simple. What he truly felt was a crushingly disheartening loss of pride in his own school. It was jarring, really; he had loved Hogwarts. But, perhaps that was only because it had genuinely never occurred to him that there could be a superior magical institution.

"It shouldn't come as much of a surprise, really," he continued speaking to himself. "How could a school that admits mudbloods possibly out-duel one that doesn't? Hogwarts' entire curriculum was impaired at the get-go."

It was true; if mudblood students weren't allowed, he and his peers surely would have been taught more advanced magic by now. It was their fault for dragging down the advancement of the rest of the school with their lack of ability.

"And Hogwarts can't _possibly _teach Dark Arts, of course. That would be _much _too damaging," he scoffed.

The administration at Durmstrang clearly understood a few things that Hogwarts' didn't. Tom wished that he had known all these things about Durmstrang before, as he knew essentially nothing about the school before the championship. If he had known all this years ago, he would have just transferred schools. It had become obvious that Durmstrang was the place he truly belonged. Now, it was too late; he would begin his seventh year in the fall and the disservice of attending Hogwarts instead had already been done.

At least he had taken it upon himself to delve into the Dark Arts, albeit through the surely limited Hogwarts library. Even so, it bothered him to think that there were so few of his peers at Hogwarts that would ever be exposed to it. The Dark Arts was such an underappreciated, and frankly quite useful, branch of magic. It was a tragic waste not to provide students with such knowledge.

Tom had been so lost in his own thoughts that the sound of a board squeaking behind him startled him greatly. He whipped around and flicked his wand to end the Cruciatus Curse on the fish, hoping that whoever it was hadn't seen what he had been doing.

Tom's glare rested on a broad-shouldered man with Italian-cut robes. He looked important and wealthy, but Tom wasn't fooled. He remembered the man sitting in the front row during his duel, amongst the journalists.

Well, he certainly was not in the frame of mind to answer questions any longer.

"Tom Riddle, yes?" The man had a French accent. "You dueled impressively."

"I do not wish to comment on my duel," he spat.

"You would do well to learn how to accept a compliment a bit more graciously," the man smirked, bringing a cigarette to his lips and lighting it. "Tell me, where did you learn that spell, young man?"

"Didn't I _just_ say that I wasn't going to comment?" His previous anger had not even begun to subside and this reporter's persistence was not helping matters.

"Tom, I'm not a reporter," he laughed in amusement. "My apologies, I should have introduced myself. My name is Raoul Beaumont."

He didn't know whether or not the man was lying about being a reporter. If he was, that would mean he was probably the lousiest reporter in existence, as he had no pad of paper or camera to speak of. Either way, it mattered little. Tom just wanted to be left alone. "Doesn't ring a bell," he said snarkily as he began to turn and leave.

"Does the Continental Wizarding Dueling Tournament ring a bell?"

Tom paused and looked at Beaumont. Of _course_ he had heard of it. It was possibly one of the most prestigious dueling competitions in the world. He had only dreamt of attending for years, but couldn't as the tickets were outrageously expensive.

"I am an investor of sorts. I sponsor and serve as a mentor to a group of ten well-trained competitors. My job is to provide everything they need leading up to and during the tournament, such as training coaches and sessions with previous tournament champions. I've always loved dueling, but never quite had the natural talent, so this has been an enjoyable hobby for me." Raoul was apparently satisfied with Tom's newfound attention, as he continued to explain: "With the muggle war still dragging on, things have become increasingly complicated for a few of my contestants, and one of them will no longer be competing. I suppose that brings me to why I am here. I have to admit, it is extremely rare for a sponsor to add an underage wizard to their team, but I believe in taking risks. I also believe you have what it takes. The competition begins in a month's time, so I am aware that it is a bit of short-notice, but I will have a trainer meet with you as frequently as your schedule allows. Your earnings would be twenty galleons per match that you win and my cut would be 5% of your total earnings. Am I presumptuous to assume that you'd be interested, Mr. Riddle?"

"No, not at all. I'm _very_ interested," Tom said breathlessly, attempting to recover from the sheer shock of the offer.

"Excellent." Raoul smiled. "You know, Hogwarts should have won it today. Durmstrang is constantly touting their dueling abilities, but the truth of the matter is that they are not nearly as well-rounded as Hogwarts. The ones with more comprehensive knowledge, those are always the ones that go the furthest in the larger tournaments. Your style is obviously more on the offensive than the defensive side, but the point is that you don't have any glaring weaknesses."

It didn't completely negate all of Tom's thoughts from before, but it certainly helped.

"If you would like some time to think before joining the tournament, I would just ask that you inform me within a week so I can secure another contender if necessary."

As if such an opportunity required actual thought to accept. "It would be such an honor to join," Tom said quickly, as though Raoul would somehow change his mind and revoke the offer if he took more than a few seconds to reply.

He stepped out his cigarette and extended his hand. "Welcome to the Beaumont team, Tom Riddle."

* * *

_"Opportunities multiply as they are seized." - Sun Tzu_

* * *

**I am sooo sorry I haven't updated in so long! I was crazy busy moving to a new apartment and settling in. BUT to make up for it, I promise I'll update again within two days!**

**We are officially over 100 favorites! I'm so happy thankful for every single one of you that have favorited, followed, and reviewed. :D**

**Speaking of reviews, thank you to Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, RosiePosie15, I thought I was the only one, and CharlotteBlackwood for reviewing last chapter!**

**I apologize again for the update delay, but I will see you again within 48 hours.(;**


	25. Part I - An Odd Imposter

An Odd Impostor

_June 4, 1944_

Rosemary lunged for the _Daily Prophet _as soon as it dropped on the table between them.

"For Merlin's sake, Rose, we aren't exactly going to fight you to read the bloody paper." Emily rolled her eyes and sipped her orange juice.

She was too busy staring at the front page of the unfolded paper to respond. There was Tom, wearing a medal around his neck and shaking hands with one of the judges. Upon closer inspection, she could see the other captain glaring daggers at him and Tom's subsequent smirk.

Her chest filled with so much pride for him, she thought she may burst. Yeah, that was him. _Her_ boyfriend. She scanned the article:

_The Hogwarts Dueling Club, under the leadership of Tom Riddle, made it further in the Wizarding School Dueling Championship than it has in years. Riddle is a sixth-year student and has been the Captain of the Hogwarts Dueling Club since his third-year, making him the youngest-ever Captain at Hogwarts._

_The Captains' duel, the final match of the championship, was full of excitement. Riddle and the Durmstrang Institute Captain, Konrad Ljunggren, showcased their exceptional dueling abilities. They were expending their allotted spells so quickly that many were convinced it would end in a tie, but Riddle performed an unknown spell with a rather surprising result (see page 3A for photo)._

Rose rapidly turned to the other page and saw Tom cast the spell; a split second later, the Durmstrang Captain's wand split in two and part of it fell to the floor. She couldn't help but let out a small giggle. Turning back to the front page, she continued to read:

_The judges initially questioned whether or not the spell violated the rules of the competition, but ultimately decided that the play was fair. Riddle was then presented with the title of Wizarding School Dueling Captain Champion. In the end, the School Champion title went to Durmstrang with 1045 points earned; Hogwarts narrowly fell in second place behind them with 975 points._

Faye craned her neck over her shoulder. "Did they mention Adam at all?"

"No," Rose said apologetically.

"Well, how did they do?!" Loretta asked.

"Second place. Tom won the Captains' duel, though."

"Second place? Why aren't you more excited? That's incredible!" Loretta's eyes widened. "Honestly, no one expected them to make it that far. I heard that Durmstrang has a staff of three professors _just_ to teach dueling, for Merlin's sake."

It was true, it _was_ incredible. But she also knew that Tom's view of it would be quite different. He would not be happy about getting second place, especially not by such a small margin. She knew, because if she were in his position, she would feel exactly the same way. It was the curse of their colossal pride.

"We should throw them a party, you know," Faye told her after breakfast, when they were on their way back to the Ravenclaw common room.

Rose had already begun to brace herself for the sullen mood Tom would surely have when he returned to Hogwarts and doubted that he would appreciate the idea of a party. "It's Monday tomorrow," she pointed out, grasping for an excuse.

"That's never stopped us before."

"I doubt Tom will be in the mood for a party," she sighed, ceding the real explanation for her hesitance. "He won't be happy they placed second."

"Wait, you mean Riddle _wouldn't_ be happy if things didn't go precisely his way for once in his life? I never would have guessed," Faye snorted.

It was odd; Faye had seemed to be warming up to him for a while, but over the course of the last month, she was growing increasingly distant every time Rose brought him up. Rose didn't know quite what to make of it, but with the looming threat of her parents, it was never really at the forefront of her mind anyway. Still, she couldn't help but give Faye a puzzled look, wondering where _that_ had possibly come from.

Faye seemed to immediately realize what she had said and the amused look fell from her face. "Sorry..." she muttered. "That time of the month and all."

Once again, an odd reaction. Faye was rarely flustered, but even that seemed to be happening more frequently within the past month. The only explanation Rose could think of was that perhaps Faye and Adam were going through some sort of rough patch. The thought made Rose feel guilty for dampening her spirits, so she said, "We can throw a party. I'll help set up, but if Tom doesn't want to stay I'll leave with him."

Her face brightened a bit and she half-smiled. "I was thinking champagne punch?"

Rose hooked her arm with her friend's. "That sounds splendid."

* * *

"What time do you think they'll be back?" Rebecca asked them for what must have been the tenth time.

"Orion," Rose snapped, "Stop being a pest and make yourself useful."

The raven-haired witch turned slightly red and hurried away to check on the others that had already joined them in waiting for the team to return. The group primarily consisted of Slytherin girls, seeing as nearly the entire house of Slytherin boys, at least those who were fifth-year and above, had attended the championship.

Sylvia Goyle and Eileen Prince, their designated look-outs, hastily entered the common room and announced, "They're coming!"

"Quiet down, everyone!" Faye shouted.

The occasional drawback to throwing a party in the Slytherin common room was that the Slytherins were notorious for only listening to one of their own. When the chatter failed to subside after Faye's command, Rebecca shouted "Shut up, you dolts! They're coming!" Of course, they listened to her and the room quickly fell silent.

Shouts, whistles, and applause greeted the boys as they stepped through the common room door, but it slowly died off as the entire team sent them their sulky glances. Her stomach was in knots, wondering how Tom would respond, when she was struck with a rather puzzling realization; out of all of them, Tom actually seemed to be in the best spirits. But, she also knew he was quite good at pretending. There was no telling what was actually going on in his head.

Tom sent the applauding group a smirk and the rest of the team seemed to brighten as a result, as if it were a form of nonverbal permission to enjoy the party. The Slytherin girls placed drinks in the hands of the boys and music began from some corner of the room.

The uneasy feeling in her stomach had yet to dissipate when he strode up to her. "Congratulations, love." she put her arms around his neck before pulling away once more and sighing. It was likely best to clear the air, sooner rather than later. "Look, I-I'm sorry," she stumbled over her words and began to ramble off an explanation: "Faye really wanted to throw a party and I felt guilty crushing her spirits because she's seemed off lately and-"

He took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. So deeply that she momentarily lost track of any and all thought. "Thank you. It's wonderful," he told her as their lips parted.

"Really?" her shock revived itself in the aftermath of the kiss. "I thought you might be displeased."

"Not at all. It was very thoughtful of you to put this together."

"You don't even mind that it's Monday tomorrow?" she pressed, still unconvinced at his apparently complete lack of annoyance.

He said nothing and merely smiled at her. She realized that she hadn't seen him this happy in a long time; the last time she could recall was certainly before he had met her parents.

"Let's get a few drinks," Rosemary said, still reeling in disbelief.

The rest of the party had certainly livened up a bit within a few minutes; the Dueling Club boys had become completely comfortable with basking in all the praise and attention the Slytherin girls were showering upon them. Everyone was well on their way to drunk as well: the champagne punch she and Faye had made was already completely empty; apparently, the girls had liked it more than they let on.

"So, where's the medal?" she nudged him, recovering slightly from the shock of his bizarre attitude with the help of some gin. "Can I see it?"

He reached into his pocket; what he took out looked _much_ better in the _Daily Prophet_'s picture. The cloth strap that attached to the medal looked stained and greenish in hue. It was also giving off a putrid aroma that made her wrinkle her nose. He held it out for her to hold it, but she backed away. "What happened to it?!"

"It fell in the lake. If you think the Black Lake is revolting, you should see the lakes at Durmstrang." He said this as though it was the most amusing thing that had ever happened to him.

Unbelievable. Perhaps, she thought, she should check him for signs of the Polyjuice Potion, because this was most certainly _not_ Tom Riddle. This was surely some sort of impostor.

She saw the others approaching them. The scent was so awful she was beginning to get a headache. "Fucking hell...Put it away before someone else smells it." Tom was just lucky that he smelled so damned good all the time and could cover it up as long as it was in his pocket.

"I don't think I've ever seen Nott dance before," Rebecca giggled in amusement as she, Faye, Markus, and Adam joined them at the drinks table. "He looks like a complete oaf."

Rose smirked. She agreed, but she wouldn't say it aloud in fear of giving Becca some sort of idea that they were actually friends. There was no chance in hell _that _would ever happen.

"A round of shots, anyone?" Markus asked, while pouring firewhiskey into a set of nearby shot-glasses.

Rose looked at Tom; she would only take one if he did, seeing as they had just finished their first drinks.

"Why not?" he smirked.

The response had been so far from the norm coming from him; she couldn't help but give him another incredulous glance. First, he hated firewhiskey just as much as she did. Second, even though she considered Adam and Markus to be two of his closest friends, he seldom participated in anything they did. Apparently the others in the circle had realized the same, as they were also giving him looks of disbelief.

Markus seemed to recover most quickly, supplying each of them with a shot glass. He raised his and cleared his throat. "To our bold and inspiring Captain!"

The rest of them clinked their glasses together in the middle. "Cheers!" they said in unison.

They all took their shots and Rose immediately felt queasy when it hit her stomach. As much as she hated firewhiskey, she couldn't help but think the nauseous feeling also had something to do with the awful smell from the medal that was still lingering in her nose.

"That's bloody awful." Tom made a face and laughed. The others hesitantly joined in and Rosemary was at least rather relieved that she wasn't the only one to notice his drastic change in disposition. She was just recovering from the shock of both the liquor and his comment when he said, "Let's have another. Preferably something else."

Markus was caught off-guard again. "Oh! Erm, alright! What'll it be?"

"Let's just fix our own," Rose said quickly. She didn't want to be stuck with scotch, which tasted just as terrible as firewhiskey did to her, or anything else. "We all like different things anyway."

"Fair enough," Markus shrugged.

They reformed their circle in a minute or two. Of course, Rose had gin and Tom had scotch. Becca poured herself some vodka and the last three stuck with firewhiskey.

"To these three lovely ladies for throwing us such a splendid party. Cheers!" It was Adam's turn for a toast. They drank again and thankfully, the gin was much more forgiving on her sensitive stomach than the firewhiskey had been.

For a moment, she was tempted to goad them all into taking another shot, as it would be Tom's turn to make a toast and she was curious what he would say. Especially now, as he was exhibiting such a drastic departure to his usual personality. But, a full drink and three shots in less than fifteen minutes would have been a bit of a bad idea, so it was probably for the best when the group began to split:

"Come dance with me," Rebecca said in her high-pitched, whiny voice as she pulled Markus away to the dance floor.

Faye gave Rose a small smile and tugged on Adam's arm, following the other couple.

She watched them walk away and sighed. "I'm worried about Faye. She just isn't herself lately. Doesn't she seem off to you? Do you think she and Adam are having problems?"

"I wouldn't worry," he said nonchalantly. Tom got to work making yet another drink for her and one for himself. "She's probably just stressed for N.E.W.T.s."

"I hope so." She was beginning to feel the alcohol quite a bit and began to lose her balance while simply standing there. Drinking what he had just made her would be a _very _bad idea.

He steadied her and clicked his tongue. "You're only three drinks in and you're already tipsy? Looks like _someone's_ getting a bit tame," he spoke into her ear in his playful voice, which she found ridiculously sexy.

"No I'm not!" she said defiantly with a drunken giggle.

"Prove it, then," a teasing smirk appeared on his face. It took little thought to know exactly what he meant.

Rosemary grabbed his hand and led him across the room and up the stairs to his dormitory, stumbling a few times along the way. He closed the door behind them, locked it with three different charms, and set his recently-emptied glass on his desk.

She pushed him down so he was sitting on the edge of his bed. "What has gotten into you tonight?" she asked him, while kissing the side of his face.

"I have no idea what you're referring to," he smiled at her between kisses.

"You're in an exceptionally good mood," she pointed out. "I'm not saying that you _don't_ have a good reason to be in a good mood. I mean, you _are _the Wizarding School Champion Dueling Captain and I'm very proud of you. I just haven't seen you that happy in…probably ever."

He smirked and shrugged. She sighed; she couldn't tell if he was happy about something else or not, so she dropped it for the time being. His smirk continued as she pulled her blouse over her head and unclasped her bra. Her skirt and underwear followed shortly after and then she moved closer to him, kissing him as she untied his tie and slid it over his head before unbuttoning his shirt.

He seemed to be growing impatient, as he stood to remove his pants instead of waiting for her to do it for him. She certainly didn't want to be accused of being 'tame' again, so she pushed him back down to the bed and climbed on top of him, kissing his jaw and neck in a way she knew would drive him crazy. His hands roamed over her and the sporadic groans that escaped his lips intensified and she reached down to stroke him.

Even so, he craned his neck to teasingly say in her ear, "I'm still not convinced that you've avoided growing tame, Rosemary. Have you become a proper young lady after all?"

He was so unbearably attractive, especially with his delicious teasing. In that moment, she realized just how much she ached for him after being apart. Granted, it had only been for a mere weekend, but it definitely felt long enough to her. It was so comforting to be in his arms again.

But the fact that she had missed him so greatly was also troubling. Rose had been avoiding thoughts of the upcoming summer months as much as possible, as they most certainly meant no Tom. The nights of sleeping beside him were clearly numbered. After the run-in with her father at the last Slug Club meeting, she was convinced, and quite frankly paranoid, that her parents would be keeping exceptionally close tabs on her all summer. It would be a small miracle if they could see each other at all. They might not even be able to write; she wouldn't put it past her mother (or her father, at this rate), to place a charm on her windows so that owls couldn't deliver mail directly to her room.

Her father's insistence that she would fall out of love with Tom in the long term had only served to make her more resolute in her desire to be with him. It seemed like the more her parents told her "no", the more she wanted him, and the further she fell in love with him.

But, there were also the downsides of falling further in love, too. What if putting her heart so far out on the line completely backfired? What if Tom grew tired of the hassle of her parents? What if they grew apart during the summer, or worse, what if he met someone else? She couldn't exactly blame him for wanting out of the complicated mess that had become her life.

Rose attempted to push these doubts and fears from her mind and focus on being with him while she still could, but tears filled her eyes without her consent. The alcohol she had consumed did not aid in subduing such strong emotions; rather, it seemed to make her eyes fill even more quickly than usual.

Tom stopped and tilted her chin up. She closed her eyes so he couldn't see that she had been about to cry. "Look at me," he commanded.

She hesitantly opened her eyes, obeying him. As soon as he saw the tears in her eyes, his dark ones filled with alarm. He pulled her against his chest and kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry," he told her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it; I was only trying to tease you."

Rose was attempting to pull herself together again, but she quickly reassured him. "It's not that at all."

"I see," he said, sounding somewhat relieved, but still concerned. "What, then?"

Any progress she had made in calming herself went down the drain when she opened her mouth to speak. "It's-", she bit her lip trying not to cry. He looked at her expectantly. "It's-", she tried again, choking back a sob. "This summer," she finally managed.

Then it all came flooding out. She burst into hideously uncontrolled sobs, wailing into his chest. Tom wrapped his arms tightly around her. "Oh, Rosemary." He stroked her hair in an attempt to calm her.

Well, now there was no worry whatsoever that she had miraculously turned into a proper young lady after all. _Ladies_ were only supposed to cry with grace and whatever the hell she was doing certainly wasn't graceful.

He sighed and tilted her chin to look up at him again. She wanted to fight away so she didn't have to look up at him, knowing that she likely looked terribly unattractive with the tears streaming down her now-puffy cheeks, but couldn't find the strength or willpower to do so.

"I was hoping to make it a surprise, but I may as well just tell you now…" Tom smirked and she looked at him curiously. "You aren't going to believe this. It's absolutely splendid news, Rosemary."

"Tell me, then!" she pleaded, desperate to hear _any_ sort of good news.

"I am about to become the youngest contestant in the history of the Continental Wizarding Dueling Tournament."

Her eyes widened. "What? Really!?" she screeched, wiping the tears off her face. The shock of his announcement had put an abrupt halt to her crying.

He smiled at her and nodded. Truly, the news was almost unbelievable; the tournament was legendary. Even she, who was as far from being a dueling aficionado as she could possibly be, knew about the Continental Wizarding Dueling Tournament. Even with his exceptional natural talent, it was shocking that he had been chosen. Most of the competitors were career duelers that had spent much of their lives training, after all.

"Tom, that's absolutely brilliant!" She kissed the side of his face excitedly.

"I think so too," he continued to grin. Now she certainly knew where his mysterious good mood had come from. "It's two weeks long and it begins on the first of July, in Paris. I've already spoken to Raoul-" She gave him a quizzical look and he explained: "Raoul Beaumont is my sponsor."

"You have a _sponsor_? You're so official now!" she squeezed his arm.

"Yes, I'll be meeting with him next weekend in Hogsmeade, actually." He waved his hand. "Anyway. That's not important now. What I was saying, was that I spoke to him and if you'd like to, you're free to come along."

She hadn't really thought his news could get any better, and then it did. Two weeks, in Paris, watching Tom duel? It seemed too good to be true.

"Yes! I'd love to!" she threw her arms around his neck in happiness. "If you're sure you want me there. I don't want to be too much of an imposition. Or a distraction."

"You definitely aren't an imposition." He ran a hand over her bare legs and gave her a playful smirk "You may be a bit of a distraction, but a pleasant one nonetheless." He kissed her forehead. "Of course I want you to come with me."

She smiled and hugged herself against his chest. "You're right, this news _is_ absolutely splendid. The only way it could be better is if I could stay with you all summer." The words had spilled out before she could stop them. She knew what she had said was ridiculously selfish; he had already revealed such an amazing surprise and there she was, already asking for more.

Thankfully, he didn't seem to be offended. "Maybe you can," he told her. "With my winnings from the tournament, I should be able to rent a flat in London for the rest of the summer."

It was odd to hear him bring up money; most of the people she knew had loads of it, but it had always seemed more like an invisible force than a tangible good. She was so used to taking it for granted, she couldn't seem to grasp the idea that he had grown up without it. Rose wished he didn't have to worry. The idea that she could easily pay for his flat occurred to her, but knew that he would be exceptionally offended if she dared to bring it up.

"We'll have to try and think of something to tell your parents," he said hesitantly. "I doubt they'll allow you out of the house if they know you're visiting me."

Rose nodded. "I'll think of something." She didn't want him to worry about anything else. Nor did she want to dwell on thoughts of her parents in such a pleasant moment: "Tell me more about the tournament! _And _the duel you just won! The picture in the _Prophet_ was, in a word, priceless."

He smirked and she watched him as he launched excitedly into his tales of the championship and then the details of the tournament. Hearing him discuss something so passionately made her fall even more madly in love with him; she adored his boundless ambition. He sounded so convincingly confident that he had everything under control; that everything would go according to plan, because he would make it happen that way. It was reassuring in the most sublime sense.

* * *

"_And so, with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer." ― F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

**As promised, I'm back again with an update! I hope you enjoyed this chapter; it's been sorta nice to give Tom and Rose a break and have a sweeter chapter between them. Also, I hope it was fun to read about Tom acting so strange hahah. Things are finally looking up again. :D Although perhaps not for long. But, you might have already guessed that :D Mwhaha. Or, maybe I'm totally throwing you off right now. You'll just have to wait and read what happens!**

**OMG, we are SO CLOSE to 100 reviews. I will be absolutely thrilled when we get there! AND this chapter marks over 100K words in the story (just barely, thanks to these author's note ramblings). :D Yay for progress! 175 chapters to go!**

**Thank you to the lovely readers that reviewed the last chapter: I thought I was the only one, CharlotteBlackwood, TheRealPrincessTigerLily, and RosiePosie15!**

**The next chapter will be back to the usual setup of both Tom and Rose's POV; I'll try to post it within 3-4 days! Although, I may be increasingly motivated to finish with a few extra reviews thrown my way.(;**


	26. Part I - Cover Story

Cover Story

_June 11, 1944_

Rose leaned against his shoulder, propping her Charms textbook up on her knees. She scanned the pages in front of her, though her thoughts were wandering elsewhere. This was a rather unfortunate dilemma as finals were to begin the very next day. She felt nowhere near ready and was probably spending more time worrying about them than actually studying.

Tom, on the other hand, was functioning at maximal efficiency; he had barely left their study room in the library over the course of the entire weekend. The only time he bothered to eat was if she brought him back something from the Great Hall and he probably hadn't slept more than five hours in the last three nights. Even their interactions had dwindled to one or two-word responses.

She thought it may all be a bit excessive, but at least he had a good reason. As he had decided through owl post with Beaumont, he would begin his training tomorrow afternoon, and would have a session nearly every day until the tournament. It was quite intensive, but she supposed that was to be expected given the caliber of the competitors. Plus, he was having an additional meeting with Beaumont later that evening. Obviously with all of this going on, he would have little time to continue studying for finals during the week, so it was understandable that he was attempting to get as much of it out of the way as possible.

Watching him work so hard made her feel incredibly lazy for her lack of focus, but she couldn't help it. She was much too excited for their upcoming trip to think of anything else. It was all so surreal; the fact that they had found a solution to their summer dilemma had only begun to sink in. Well, sort of. There was still the issue of satisfying her parents with some sort of lie.

She had begun to doze off when Tom suddenly closed his books and started packing his things to leave. "I should be off," he told her, sounding quite eager to meet with Beaumont

Rose smiled at him and rubbed her eyes in an attempt to wake herself. "Have a good meeting."

"Thank you." He kissed the top of her head and stood to leave. "I likely won't see you until our Charms final tomorrow morning."

"That's fine," she nodded. Then he turned to leave and she stood, catching his arm. "Wait a moment. I have to ask you something."

"What is it?"

She took a deep breath, a bit nervous as to how he would respond to her suggestion. But, it was the only one she had come up with over the course of the week that seemed at least somewhat realistic:

"Well, I was thinking of what I should tell my parents about what I'm doing this summer…I wasn't sure if you'd thought of anything, but the best option I came up with is to say that I'm spending it with Faye. Her family usually goes out of the country over the summer, so it's unlikely that my parents will run into hers and ask about me."

Tom looked hesitant.

"I can trust her," Rose continued. "I won't even need to tell her why I'm lying to my parents about spending time with you."

Not that it would be easy to avoid telling her. As soon as she caught wind of any sort of drama, Rose knew that Faye would be extremely persistent in finding out what exactly it was. But, she would just have to deal with being left out of the loop, at least for the time being. Tom certainly wouldn't go for the plan if it meant telling another person he was a half-blood.

He considered her words for a moment. "That is probably the best option," he told her slowly. His eyes showed a glimmer of worry and it made her feel guilty for bringing it all up when he had been so excited and eager for his meeting just moments ago.

"I'll take care of everything," she told him quickly, hoping to get her suggestion off his mind. "You should just focus on training and finals."

He nodded and gave her a half-smile before turning to leave once more. Her stomach sank a bit, knowing that regardless of her attempts at reassurance, he was still worried about it.

Rose returned to her dormitory after Tom left the library, as it was doubtful she would make much more progress in terms of finals preparation that evening. When she arrived, she saw the unopened letter from her parents sitting on her nightstand. She had received it earlier in the week, but had been hesitant to open it in fear that it would ruin her good mood following Tom's news. But, she had to get it over with sooner or later.

Who knew, maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all…In a stroke of sheer optimism, she allowed herself to hope that her parents had been at least somewhat impressed by Tom's recent success at the dueling championship. There was no way that her father had missed the article in the _Daily Prophet_; he read the paper religiously in order to keep up with the world events that might alter the broom market.

She opened the letter and immediately recognized her mother's flawless cursive:

_Dear Rosemary,_

_Your father and I wish you well on your finals this coming week. We are certainly looking forward to your return from Hogwarts. As you may already know, the Avery's are planning to meet us in St. Ives a day or two after you arrive home. Regrettably, I'm under the impression that Markus is planning to bring that little toad…Rebecca, isn't it?_

_Anyway, it's likely you won't have to spend much time with them at all. I ran into Julianne Vipond and her husband at the Wizards for Wildlife Conservation Gala last weekend. Apparently, Xavier has been asking about you quite a bit. It sounds as though he is truly looking forward to getting to know you better this summer._

She shifted uncomfortably, remembering Julianne's annoying, overly coddled son Xavier, who was a seventh-year student at Beauxbatons. Clearly, her parents were becoming increasingly desperate to rid her of Tom. On several occasions, she had heard her father suggest that male students at Beauxbatons were not real men at all, which Rose assumed had something to do with their lack of a proper Quidditch team. Regardless of the reason, the fact that her parents were now suggesting Xavier as a suitable replacement was a harsh reality check which meant that Tom's dueling talents had done little to impress them. It had been naïve to be so optimistic that they would think otherwise.

While this was a bit of a disappointment, she _was_ rather surprised and relieved that her mother hadn't mentioned Tom at all. Rose had expected at least one or two acerbic remarks, but as she scanned the rest of the letter, there were none to be found. In fact, when she thought more about it, the reactions of her parents to Tom's blood status had been completely the opposite of what she was expecting. She had thought that her mother would be the one to overreact and her father would be the one to sit back and watch it happen with little comment. Until recently, her father had no problem handing off the unpleasant tasks of parenthood to her mother. But things were entirely different now. Her mother seemed to be staying as far from the situation as possible while her father was becoming more overbearing by the day.

Rose took out her wand and suspended the letter in mid-air, bringing the tip of her wand to the corner of the parchment, and lighting it on fire. There was no real need to burn the letters her parents sent, but it was oddly satisfying to see it shrivel up into ash nonetheless.

"Stop starting fires!" Loretta scolded her from across the room. "The smell of that ink burning gives me a headache and _some _of us actually need to study for our finals"

Admittedly, her parents' ink did smell pretty awful when it was burning. This was probably because they always bought it with the pricey addition of extract from the Aurum hook-tailed beetle, which turned the ink gold and shiny. She blushed at Loretta's reproach and opened a window, as it had nearly finished burning anyway.

Faye and Emily entered the dormitory a few minutes later, in the midst of a squabble about the correct number of salamander tongues to add in order to make a burn-healing paste. Loretta and Emily had only begrudgingly begun speaking with Faye again after Rose and Faye recovered from their fight. Things had been a bit tense for a while, and the stress of finals seemed to have an intensifying effect. Rose, who felt as though she had much more important things to worry about, was quickly growing tired of their constant bickering.

"It's three," Rose answered automatically.

"Hah!" Emily exclaimed happily. "I knew it."

Faye glared at her and opened her mouth to say something that would undoubtedly begin another spat, so Rose interjected once more, heading for the door that led to the common room. "Faye, want to take a walk? I could use a study break."

It was a lie, of course. If anything, she needed to sit down and actually study. On the other hand, it would certainly be a relief to get the conversation with Faye out of the way and figure out a concrete plan. Maybe then she would be able to focus on her schoolwork once more.

They exited the castle and walked across the Hogwarts lawn. "Merlin, I need a cigarette after dealing with that girl," Faye grumbled, lighting one from her pack. "Honestly, though, I'm completely screwed for finals."

"You're telling me," Rose sighed and lit a cigarette of her own. After a moment or two of silence, she said, "Faye, I have a favor to ask you, and it's kind of a big one. But before I do, you have to understand that I won't be able to answer all of your questions."

"Okay…" Faye shot her a puzzled look.

She realized that she didn't know exactly where to start, so she just began talking: "Well, it's amazing really. Tom is going to be competing in the Continental Wizarding Dueling Tournament this summer and I'm going to go and watch him. The only problem is…" Rose hesitated, struggling to find the right words. It ached to think about admitting out loud that her parents disapproved of him.

"Your parents, right?" Faye said. Apparently, Rose didn't have to worry about finding the right words after all.

"Yes…How did you know?" she asked in surprise.

"Why else would you need a favor to visit him?" Faye explained hastily. "It was also a bit strange that you never said anything about when he met them for the first time. I wouldn't have put it past you to boast about how much they loved him."

Rose marveled for a moment at her friend's perception of the situation. Faye really _was_ quite clever, even if she didn't like to show it.

"Anyway," Faye continued. "I'll cover for you, though it will probably be easier if you spend at least a few days at my place. You know, just in case your parents thank mine for letting you stay or something. There might be a bit of confusion, but I can handle it."

Rose didn't doubt that she could. Jasper, Faye's older brother, was constantly doing something under their parents' noses when he was still living at home and she had always covered for him; even now, her parents still thought he had always been an entirely straight arrow.

"Thank you. You're amazing," Rose felt herself tear up in relief and she threw her arms around Faye's neck.

"Anything for my best friend. I'm happy if you are."

It was rather shocking that Faye hadn't asked why. Rose had prepared herself for the influx of questions that she had been sure was going to come. When they didn't, it came with an unexpected feeling of disappointment. Rose couldn't have told her friend the real reason behind her parents' dislike as she had given Tom her word, but in an odd way, she wished she could.

* * *

Tom entered The Three Broomsticks and spotted Beaumont at the bar, saying something in the ear of Madam Lark, the curly-haired bartender. She blushed and smiled, and it was then that Tom realized he had never actually seen her smile before. The expression on her face was almost always one of disdain.

He didn't know quite what to do with himself. He thought it might be uncomfortable to intrude on their conversation. But, a couple of seconds later, Beaumont spotted him and waved him over.

"I'll have another." He tapped the rim of his empty glass. "Pick your poison, Mr. Riddle."

"Scotch, please. Neat," he said to the bartender.

Madam Lark turned to prepare their drinks.

"What a doll," Raoul said, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was admiring her backside. She threw a smile over her shoulder.

Tom cleared his throat; he had no desire to watch their flirtation unfold. "Did you bring the paperwork?" he asked.

"Right to business, I see," Beaumont smirked as he began to rummage through his bag. "I have your papers right here."

He withdrew what had to be a hundred or so pages of paperwork and set the pile on the bar in front of Tom. "Most of them are liability forms and the like, just to make sure you won't sue the tournament foundation if you lose an arm or something." Madam Lark set their drinks down on the counter. "Thank you, lovely."

Raoul continued to chat her up as Tom got to work on the papers. Most of them only required a signature at the bottom, until he reached page fifty-five, which was the beginning of the questions section. He had just finished writing his age when he hesitated, eyeing the line underneath it.

_If under the age of seventeen, please include parent signatures below._

Raoul noticed his hesitation. "Skip it," he said. "I'll take care of it."

Tom glared up at him. How did he know?

"I did my homework, Tom. You should know that part of my job is to make sure you are who you say you are and that you aren't some fugitive from Azkaban or something. Don't worry, it's completely confidential…As sponsors, we're given special access to birth certificates and that sort of thing…"

It didn't do much to reassure him, but Tom sighed, continuing with the forms anyway. There was bound to be a tradeoff at some point for being a part of something as incredible as the tournament.

Beaumont changed the subject. "Will Miss Horton be joining you?"

"Yes, it looks as though she will." His annoyance with Raoul diminished slightly as he thought about her.

"Well, you may regret inviting her along once you arrive at the competition. You'll see what I mean." Beaumont winked at him. "I'm sure she's lovely, though. I've always liked the name Rose; the girls who have it are almost always beautiful enough to live up to it."

It made Tom uncomfortable to think about Beaumont meeting Rosemary after seeing the way he had eyed Madam Lark.

"Is she by chance any relation to the Horton of Comet Trading Co.? I don't know him that well, but I thought Basil had a daughter..."

He should have been more prepared for the question, but he wasn't. Tom didn't answer, electing to down his drink in one swift motion instead.

"I thought so," Raoul nodded. "That makes for a tricky situation, I'm sure."

It shouldn't have surprised him that, judging by his last comment, Beaumont knew of Tom's blood status. Especially considering the fact that he already knew about Tom's deceased parents. His irritation was growing exponentially; he hated that someone knew all this about him and was speaking about it as though it were some trivial conversation topic.

"I'd rather not discuss it," he said through gritted teeth.

"My apologies...It's regrettable that I never seemed to learn the concept of boundaries. Although, sometimes that can be a good thing." Raoul winked at the bartender and Tom rolled his eyes. He turned to Tom once more. "It doesn't bother me that you're a half-blood, in case you're wondering. All I care about is that you duel like a pure-blood, which you do."

He was still angry that Raoul had delved into all this without his knowledge, but the man's words were also a pleasant validation of what Rosemary had always told him: that people truly did see him as a pure-blood. Besides, even if he was angry, he wasn't about to say anything that would potentially threaten his entry into the tournament.

Tom returned to the papers and approached a question asking about his type of wand.

"Phoenix feather, right?" Beaumont asked, leaning over his shoulder.

"Did you make a trip to Ollivander's too?" Tom snapped angrily. "What's the use of me filling all this out if you know the answers? I have a final tomorrow, you know. I could use this time to study instead."

"It's part of the rules. And no, I didn't go to Ollivander's," he shook his head, and a look of amusement rested on his face. "When you've been doing this as long as I have, you sort of get an eye for it."

Tom might have admitted that he was impressed if he wasn't so aggravated at the same time.

Finally, after another twenty minutes or so, he finished the paperwork and handed it over to Beaumont. "Excellent. And you received permission from Headmaster Dippet to begin your trainings?"

Tom nodded.

"Well, then we should be all set. Jennings informed me that he will meet you in the east courtyard tomorrow after you've finished with exams. I'd walk you to the gates of the school, but I have some…unfinished business to attend to." He smirked at Madam Lark. "I'll see you at the end of this month. Don't hesitate to write if you have any questions." He extended a hand and Tom shook it before leaving the pub.

When he arrived back at Hogwarts, he walked briskly to the dungeons to fetch his books for some late-night studying. He was nearly to the common room when he saw Faye stepping out of it. As they walked toward each other in the corridor, Tom trained his eyes straight ahead as though he hadn't seen her at all, all in hope that she would do the same.

He had no such luck, unfortunately. "Just the person I was hoping to find," she said in a sickly sweet voice as she approached him. "Mind if I speak with you for a moment?"

Tom might have ignored her if there weren't several people walking through the corridor around them, but the last thing he wanted was to cause suspicion that things were tense between them and for that information to travel back to Rosemary somehow. "Of course," he answered coolly. "Shall we go somewhere a bit more private?"

"No, this is just fine, actually." Faye smirked and put a hand on her hip "I'm sure you know that Rose spoke to me earlier today about her summer plans-"

"We're definitely going to go somewhere a bit more private," Tom snarled as he cut her off. He glanced around the corridor to ensure that nobody was watching as he grabbed her wrist, pulling her along to the nearest classroom. "Out!" he barked to a few Slytherin second years that had chosen it as their place to study.

They left and Faye crossed her arms. "As I was saying, I kept to our agreement and I didn't breathe a word to her about our last little chat. I agreed to help her, and by extension, help you. But there's a catch, I'm afraid. You have to tell Rosemary that she can tell me why her parents disapproved of you."

"And why would I do that?" He straightened his frame so he towered above her even more.

"Because I won't help her if you don't," she shrugged. "And I'll let _you_ explain why I've revoked my offer."

Apparently, allowing Rose to involve Faye had been a terrible mistake. He thought he had sufficiently scared her before, but it was clearly not quite enough. "We don't need you to make it happen," he told her. "There are plenty of options. You were just the one Rosemary chose."

"Oh, so you _do_ care about her happiness then? I couldn't tell," Faye sassed.

"Excuse me?" he glared at her as intensely as he possibly could.

"Well, first off, you're putting her through the stress of unhappy parents just to be with you. And, judging from my interaction with her today, you aren't allowing her to talk about it with anyone either. She would have told me about it. She _wanted _to; I could see it on her face. I mean, I get it, you're ego is much larger than the average person's and whatever it is, you probably don't want everyone to know. But I can guarantee you're going to make her miserable if she has to keep bottling this up. I've been doing a bit of thinking about your threats and honestly, I don't buy it. What are you really going to do that will prevent me from telling her everything?" She sighed. "Admittedly, you _do _make her quite happy. I don't have a problem with you two being together as long as you're fair to her."

His anger ebbed away as she spoke and was replaced by sickening guilt. Faye was right and he knew it: his growing selfish and possessive tendencies had prevented him from truly looking at it from Rosemary's view. It was only a matter of time before she began to feel alienated and he knew that by then it would be too late; a wedge would have be driven between them. And, seeing as Faye was now resolute in speaking with her about it, he was a bit trapped anyway. He would never say it aloud, but Faye's bold defiance and her protectiveness of Rose made him respect her just slightly more. It also made him realize that she would be much more useful as an asset rather than an enemy.

_Well played, Donohue._

"Fine," he told her.

* * *

"_Selfish people are, in a way, terribly capable of great loves." ― F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

**Hey everyone! I have a really big announcement so keep on reading.(:**

**But first, I'd love to thank everyone that reviewed the last chapter! It was the most reviews I've received for a chapter so far. :D Thank you sooo much to Mrs. TomMarvoloRiddle, I thought I was the only one, I. Am. Thalote, DIFFERENT IS GOOD, silverfox1611, CharlotteBlackwood, WingsOfThePhoenix205, and s8xyvriska.**

**Now for my big announcement! After giving it quite a bit of thought and planning, I've decided that putting this story in five parts will not allow me to write it as well as I'd like. Soooo it's now going to be SEVEN parts with fifty chapters each! I'm so excited to keep writing. I hope you're looking forward to reading it and will join me for the entire journey! :D**


	27. Part I - Raoul Beaumont: The Eccentric

**I was going to write this chapter with the normal set up of both Tom &amp; Rose's POV, but it would have been way too damn long. Sooo it will be all Rose next chapter.(: Enjoy!**

* * *

Raoul Beaumont: The Eccentric

_June 25, 1944_

As it had been too far to Floo or Apparate from Scotland, and Jennings had more or less indicated his dislike of using Portkeys, they flew in. Tom had no issue with this – he didn't really mind flying – except for the fact that the brooms they were using were from Comet.

When they flew over muggle Paris, the partially crumbled buildings and the streets crawling with soldiers reminded him that the muggle war was still going on. He hadn't heard much about it, nor did he really care to, considering that it had affected the wizarding world very little. Even so, it was rather striking to see such destruction vanish completely as they stepped through the secret wall in the Catacombs and emerged on a busy street of wizarding Paris on the other side.

"This way," his trainer, Curtis Jennings, said gruffly. As Tom had learned over the weeks, Jennings was a man of few words, which suited him fine. It allowed him to focus on his training rather than social niceties.

They walked a few blocks and arrived at a building that seemed to be in a well-to-do area. Tom assumed that they were going to drop in to see Beaumont at his flat, but he wasn't sure as he had been too arrogant to ask where they were going. Four flights of stairs and a couple of corridors later, Jennings stopped outside of a door with gold numbering that read '407'.

"This is you." He pulled a key out of his pocket and handed it to Tom, followed by a slip of paper. "Here's the address to Beaumont's place. He wants everyone there by ten tonight. Think you can find your way?"

"I'm sure I can manage." He didn't roll his eyes, as Jennings was generally intolerant of sarcasm, but he _had _been doing things on his own for years. How hard could it possibly be to get there? If his trainer thought he was incapable of doing so, Tom would be rather offended.

The older wizard nodded and left without another word as Tom let himself into the flat. He put the key and the slip of paper containing Beaumont's address in his pocket, exchanging them for his trunk, which he had shrunk to make traveling a bit easier. He placed in on the ground and restored its size with the Engorgement Charm before he finally took a good look around.

There was a good-sized kitchen and bedroom, plus a living room with an attached balcony that was similar to the one off of Rose's room at the Horton manor. It was the sort of place he could envision her in and he made a mental note to look for something similar when he moved back to London for the remainder of the summer. Overall, the flat was impressively large and much nicer than he had perhaps expected, given the fact that Beaumont was paying for ten of them in total, in addition to his own flat.

It made him briefly wonder where his sponsor had gotten his apparently enormous fortune. There wasn't really a doubt in Tom's mind that Raoul was a pure-blood, but he also didn't think he was the type of pure-blood, like Rosemary, that had grown up with ridiculous amounts of money. There was a certain roguishness about him that made Tom think otherwise. Sure, his parents were probably somewhat wealthy, but not like _this_. So what was it then?

But, at the same time, what did it really matter as long as Tom's trip was paid for, Rosemary got to come along, and he could compete in the tournament? Though he had no complaints to speak of, his curiosity had yet to subside and only intensified as he arrived at Beaumont's extravagant flat in the heart of wizarding Paris. It _had_ been a bit more difficult to find than he had anticipated, but he was at least able to arrive on time.

Tom knocked on the door and a few seconds later, a young woman, probably around his age or a couple of years older, opened it. He wasn't sure who she was; did Beaumont have a daughter? Tom couldn't remember; he was getting used to ignoring most of the trivial nonsense his sponsor brought up to him. The girl smiled at him and then stood to the side to let him in. She led him down the hallway at the entrance of the flat and the burble of conversation grew louder.

They turned the corner and were in a large, open room that was quite crowded with people. As expected, the only two he recognized were Jennings and Beaumont. Was he late? Why did everyone have a drink in their hand already? He glanced at the clock on the wall, which confirmed that he was, indeed, on time. Beaumont spotted him almost instantly. "Ah, bonsoir, Tom!" He staggered over and it was clear that he was already drunk. He rattled off a few sentences in French and when Tom gave him only a blank look in return, he let out a boisterous laugh. "Apologies; I forget that not everyone speaks French when I come home."

He threw his arm around Tom's shoulder and the smell of alcohol on his breath was apparent when he opened his mouth to say, "Excuse me, everyone! I'd like to introduce you to Tom Riddle. I'm sure you've all heard a lot about him, given that he's the youngest competitor the tournament has ever seen." The various conversations had come to a halt at the wake of Raoul's announcement, and nearly every pair of eyes in the room was on them. Most of the faces were either friendly or hard to read, but there were a few that were full of condescension. It bothered him only minimally as he had expected they wouldn't take him seriously because of his age. Of course, it would only make it that much more satisfying to defeat them.

Raoul launched into the introductions next; he pointed around the room at each contestant as he said their name. "The rest of our team this year consists of Dvorak, Wilson, Bankole, Ogurtsov, Zhou, Schultz, Rookwood, Esparza, and Mercier." Some of them gave a small wave, while the others simply stared at him. He recognized a few of the names and faces from following the tournament in the _Prophet_ over the years, which was quite reassuring. He had begun to wonder whether or not Raoul was merely a rich fool that threw away his money for the fun of it all. Beaumont continued on: "I know that in reality, you are all competing against each other, but I trust that you'll be gentleman and answer any questions that Tom might have over the next three weeks or so. No talk of dueling tonight, though! Please, enjoy the party…but not too much – you each have a full day of training tomorrow."

If anyone was enjoying the party too much, it was clearly Raoul. No one else seemed to be anywhere near drunk. The chatter commenced once more. Tom got himself a drink and sat quietly in the corner, looking around room in an attempt to size up his soon-to-be competition. Most of them were conversing with women that he assumed to be their wives, and it made him wish that Rose was there already. She was always good in this is sort of situation; he knew that if she were here, she would have something interesting to talk about with everyone in the room. He admired her for it; he could be charming, of course, but the art of creating trifling conversation had eluded him for years.

The girl that had let him inside approached him and asked him if there was anything he needed. It quickly became apparent that she was merely a waitperson, not Beaumont's daughter. Still, it made Tom wonder; did he have kids? Or a wife? If so, his flat held no indication: the walls were absent of photographs. It was then that Tom realized he knew next to nothing about Beaumont's personal life at all, except for his inane stories from when he was a trouble-making youth. He shouldn't care, really, just as he shouldn't care where his fortune had come from. It was all rather inconsequential. But, it _was_ a bit odd, given the extent that Beaumont loved to ramble on about things.

He shifted in his chair uncomfortably as he watched his fellow contestants, their wives, and their trainers speaking amicably. He tried to tell himself repeatedly that he belonged there, but it didn't quite seem to stick. Besides dueling (which Beaumont had rendered off-limits just minutes before), he had a feeling that he had nothing in common with these people. It didn't really matter anyway; in truth, he was completely fine with never speaking with any of them. It would just make these obligatory get-togethers feel a little longer. More than anything he just wanted the appearance of belonging rather than actual belonging.

He spotted Jennings standing in another corner of the room, looking sternly at his glass as though he was somehow disappointed in it. Briefly, he pondered the idea of attempting a conversation with him…but about what? This idea was thrown out the window anyway as he watched Jennings picked up his jacket and leave. Perhaps he had the right idea. Tom finished his drink and set it on a nearby table before standing as well.

Just when he was about to leave, a wizard with dark, greasy hair approached him.

"Augustus Rookwood. Nice to meet you," he introduced himself, sticking out his hand. Tom shook it and recognized Rookwood as one of the wizards that had made it to the quarter-finals the year prior. If he remembered correctly, he was from Wales. "You weren't about to leave, were you?"

He was, of course, but he certainly didn't want to admit that he didn't really fit in with the other contestants. "No," he said, his voice lightly laced with snarkiness.

Rookwood smirked. "I wouldn't blame you if you did. I would leave, too, but my wife would make a fuss." He gestured to a woman on the other side of the room that was speaking to one of the other contestants. A wave of relief washed over Tom, knowing that some of the women _were _wives and girlfriends and not…something else. "I think she enjoys catching up with everyone more than I do. Especially the other wives…they get quite close, you know. They spoil us…it's almost like every day at the tournament is our anniversary. We don't have to worry about kids or the bickering that comes about from being at home. Rather nice. It may be the best part about competing." He paused and smiled at her. Though Tom and Rose didn't really deal with these sorts of problems, hearing Rookwood talk made him ache for her. He wished she could have just come straight to Paris with him instead of returning home for a week first.

"Anyway," Rookwood changed the subject. "Sorry. I forget that you're only…what? Seventeen?"

Tom nodded and had a bad feeling that most of the tournament would be full of annoying reminders of the fact that he was younger than everyone else. In a way, he was proud of it, especially as he was breaking the record for being the youngest contestant ever. But another part of him knew that he was being underestimated every time someone remembered his age. It was irritating; he just had to keep telling himself that it would all pay off. He'd prove them wrong.

"Fucking hell. My kids are almost you're age."

It was _definitely_ getting irritating.

"They go to Durmstrang. I'm guessing you go to Hogwarts, though?" Tom nodded and Rookwood prodded on: "What are your plans after graduation?"

Honestly, he didn't know. It was actually pretty difficult to think of something to spend his life doing that would make him genuinely happy. He had given some thought to teaching, but that would mean teaching mudbloods if he was employed at Hogwarts. Still, at least it was an answer, and he was too arrogant to admit he didn't have much of a plan: "I'd like to teach," he told the other wizard.

"Teaching." Rookwood looked thoughtful, pondering it for a moment. "It's certainly stable. Kind of boring though, don't you think? Anyway, if you're as good as they say, maybe you won't even need to worry about a career. Maybe you can just duel. I mean, that's the dream, right? I think it was for all of us, until a wife and kids happened."

Tom considered his words for a moment. He had never really given much thought about having children, nor did he know Rose's thoughts on the matter. Before his mind could wander any further, he stopped himself. Things were so uncertain between he and Rose at it were; he had enough to worry about with her parents. A child was _not_ a subject he would do well to concern himself with at the present.

"I went to Hogwarts as well, until I got expelled in my fifth year."

Tom looked at him in surprise.

"Things got a little out of hand at Dueling Club one evening. I was Captain so the blame was on me. The kid was _barely_ injured, but his parents were significant donors to the school and pushed to get me expelled. It was a load of bullshit. Though, judging from the fact that you're here, Dueling Club is still going strong. I'm surprised; I thought they would have shut it down."

So _this_ was what Dippet had been referring to the many times he warned Tom to keep the Dueling Club from getting out of hand.

He shrugged and continued talking. "I guess it doesn't really matter. I turned out alright…I got a job at the Ministry, thanks to a family friend, and duel as a hobby."

As someone who was at least somewhat interested in politics, hearing that Rookwood worked at the Ministry piqued his interest. "What department?"

"I'm afraid I can't say," he told him with a mischievous smile.

Tom smirked. Obviously, he worked in the Department of Mysteries. He, like most people, knew next to nothing about the place, but it certainly didn't stop his fascination. In addition, it was a bit of a marvel that Rookwood had landed such a position after being expelled; the family friend he spoke of must have been a fairly prestigious Ministry employee.

Perhaps the parties and events over the next few weeks wouldn't be so uncomfortable after all. Admittedly, he was rather enjoying his conversation with Rookwood.

They watched as Beaumont, Zhou, and Dvorak, each took a shot.

"He's a bit of an eccentric…Very private. I've worked with him for five years and know next to nothing about him."

"I've gotten that impression of him," Tom nodded.

"Be that as it may, he _is _our ticket to the tournament and compared to other sponsors, he takes much less of a cut of our winnings." He gestured to the bar area where Raoul was filling up several shot glasses. "Plus, he knows how to have a good time."

"All the contestants, gather round!" he bellowed.

"Here we go," Augustus sighed as they stood to join the others.

The ten contestants approached and Beaumont handed each of them a shot. "May each of you advance as far as you deserve!"

They all drank and the firewhiskey burned on his stomach. "Inspiring," Tom muttered in amusement. In a way, he rather liked that Beaumont was not the type of person to sugar-coat things.

"Speeches get tricky when everyone is competing against each other," Rookwood smirked. His wife approached and put a hand on his arm. "Tom, this is Mara. Mara, Tom."

"A pleasure to meet you," he said politely.

"Likewise," she smiled kindly. "I still feel like I'm still getting the hang of all this at times, but I know enough to be impressed that you've made it here at your age."

"How do you mean?" her comment about 'still getting the hang of things' puzzled him.

"I didn't know _anything_ about dueling for the longest time. Not until I met Augustus."

He was apparently giving them both a sufficiently confused look, as her husband continued to explain: "Mara's muggleborn."

_What?_

Tom held his breath.

"Her parents wouldn't allow her to attend Hogwarts, so she grew up just like a normal muggle. I was walking by her house one morning and saw her light her neighbor's mailbox on fire after catching their dog digging a hole in her flowerbed. She looked so sweet and shocked at herself that I knew it was accidental magic. After that, we hit it off and I began teaching her the basics."

Tom was so disgusted he thought he may vomit. How could someone like Augustus, who seemed perfectly normal and sensible, go so very wrong? Even more so, how could he sit here and discuss it as though there wasn't any sort of prejudice against mudbloods? Did he assume that Tom was the type of person that would be completely accepting of it? This thought alone was unsettling enough.

"I should be going. Quite tired…erm, broom lag and all…" He tried to keep his sentences short in an attempt to avoid saying anything offensive, not that he really cared about offending Rookwood at this point. But, the last thing he wanted to do was say anything that might jeopardize his entry in the tournament. For all he knew, if he was offended enough, Rookwood might be able to convince Beaumont to revoke his sponsorship.

If Augustus or his wife had noticed his sudden shift in attitude, neither of them acknowledged it. "I'll see you around, Riddle," he told him. Tom hesitantly shook his outstretched hand.

"It was wonderful meeting you, Tom," Mara told him, reaching out to delicately touch his arm.

Too much. It was all _way_ too much. While he realized that it would be rude not to thank Beaumont for the party, his desire to leave immediately won over. At least he managed to maintain his composure long enough to duck around the corner into the hallway, step out the front door, and make the five minute walk back to his flat.

As soon as he arrived, he tore off his shirt, threw it in the fireplace in the living room, and muttered _Incendio. _Then he headed into the lavatory that was attached to his bedroom. He felt contaminated, even though the mudblood woman had only touched his shirt. Even so, until he was satisfied, he scrubbed his arms and hands like a mad person.

By the time he was finished he felt exhausted, so he went to lie down in his bed. But sleep did not come as easily as he had anticipated. He was still a bit disturbed and slightly baffled by the interaction with the Rookwood's. It seemed so entirely wrong for such a blatant blood traitor to work at the Ministry _and _compete in one of the most prestigious dueling competitions. What was the world coming to?

What would happen if these types of marriages were to continue? He knew the answer, it was simple enough: each generation would have less and less magical ability, as though it was being siphoned off. But what was _really_ on his mind were all the potential consequences of such a thing. Wizarding society would crumble. Magical progress and discovery would be slowed to a halt. Knowledge would begin to move backwards.

He felt like he was lying there for ages and a quick glance at the clock informed him that this feeling was correct: 3 a.m. He told himself that he had to sleep, as he had training at nine that next morning, but he just couldn't shut off his mind. Now, even more than earlier that evening, he wished Rosemary was there. She would understand. He could get everything out of his mind and she would listen to every word; she was truly his best friend, which made it all the more terrifying to think he could lose her.

He heard a tap at the window and sat up to see an owl attempting to get in. There was a letter tied around its ankle with a bright green ribbon and he could recognize her handwriting immediately from the way she wrote _Tom_ on the front. He scrambled out of bed and let the owl in, quickly untying the letter and ripping open the envelope.

_Dear Tom,_

_I hope this letter finds you well and that you had a safe journey to France. I'm writing from Faye's house with splendid news. My parents, most notably my father, were surprisingly supportive of my spending the summer with her. As we planned, I attempted to give them the impression that you and I are finished, and they seemed to believe it. I got the impression that he feels guilty for everything they've put me (us, really) through in the past few months. As you'll be searching for a new flat after the tournament is over, I let them know I'd visit in St. Ives for a week in mid-July and played it off as an attempt to compromise with them. My mother made a bit of a fuss that I'm only spending a week with them, but both of them seemed to be fine when I left for the Donohue's three days ago. They're fools._

It was true; that had been their plan…their rather unsatisfying plan. He hadn't wanted to give her parents the impression that they were over because it felt as though he was admitting defeat, but Tom supposed he could live with it as long as it meant she could spend the summer with him. Plus, it would buy him some time to figure out a way that he could win their favor.

_I hope training is going as well as it was while we were still in school. Perhaps it's good that I'm not there yet, as I was beginning to get the impression that Curtis was becoming annoyed with my constant presence at your sessions. I'll be better about keeping my distance so you both can focus – the last thing I want is to become a nuisance. I'm dying to know who else Beaumont has sponsored. But, as I will be there in three short days, I suppose I can wait until then to hear about it until then. I know it's been less than a week since I've last seen you, but even so, words can't even begin to express how excited I am to see you again. I love you._

_Rose_

He smiled when he read the part where she thought she was a nuisance. Of course she wasn't; he loved when she was around so he could show off for her. Jennings view of it might well be a different story, but was the cranky type of person that could be bothered with just about anything anyway.

As he finished the letter and shooed the owl out of the window without a reply, he ached for her more strongly than he had all night. His head was spinning anew, as thoughts of her crammed themselves in his mind along with the unpleasant ones regarding their less than ideal plan with her parents and his disturbing encounter with the Rookwood's. At this rate, he could forget sleeping; it was going to be a long three days.

* * *

"_What I really hated, of course, was my mind. There must have been an off switch somewhere, but I was damned if I could find it." - David Sedaris_

* * *

**Thanks a TON to these wonderful reviewers: I thought I was the only one, RosiePosie15, and CharlotteBlackwood. Special thanks to CharlotteBlackwood, as she has reviewed every single chapter so far! She is working on some great fics (my favorite of which is Craving Comfort, a very ambitious Severus Snape/OC), so you should check 'em out!(:**

**I know that there wasn't a ton that happened in this chapter, but be patient. The drama will be ramping up soon enough! :D**

**Fun fact for those of you that watch The Walking Dead...They are making a TWD spin-off, called Fear the Walking Dead (worst title ever, I know), which is set to premiere this summer. I'm super excited for it because it's going to be set in Los Angeles and is going to explore how exactly the outbreak occurred (my favorite theory is by far the Breaking Bad theory...I will be freaking thrilled if that's what happens, but there's probably next to no chance that they'll write it that way). ANYWAY, let's get to what's relevant to this fic: Frank Dillane, the actor that played a school-aged Tom Riddle in HBP, will be starring in the show! :D He's apparently going to be playing a kid that's struggling a drug addiction. To be honest, I've kind of fallen out of love with TWD with the last two seasons, but this has thoroughly revived my interest.**


	28. Part I - First Impressions

First Impressions

_June 27, 1944_

"There I said it. He's not a pure-blood…he's a half-blood." Rose downed the rest of her beverage and felt as though she might promptly burst into tears. This wasn't exactly how she had envisioned saying it, in such a drunk and overemotional state, but at least she was getting it out. It had been torturing her to keep it only between her and Tom for so long, especially because for them it was such an off-limits topic. She had been quite relieved when he told her that he had changed his mind and that it was alright if she felt like she should tell Faye, given that she was facilitating their summer escapades.

Her friend's eyes widened and her mouth fell open. "You're not serious." Rose nodded. "Shit. No wonder he didn't want anyone to know."

She sprawled out on Faye's bed and stared up at the ceiling. "Why else would my parents dislike him? He's perfect in every other way."

Faye stroked her hair in an attempt to comfort her. "Well, I don't know if I'd say _that_," she began to say, but stopped as she saw Rose turn her head and glare at her. "Sorry. I just never would have guessed."

"I don't see him that way. I _never_ could."

"I understand." Faye sighed. "He certainly has the arrogance of a pure-blood."

"And the magical ability, among many other things," Rose said icily, annoyed that his arrogance was the first quality that had come to her friend's mind. "I'm sure you remember that the entire reason I'm visiting him is because he's competing in the Continental-"

"Wizarding Dueling Tournament. Yes, I know. How could I possibly forget? It's all I've heard about for the past few weeks." Another glare from Rose was swiftly sent her way. "_Anyway_, what are you going to do about it? I can't really see your parents changing your mind about him."

"That's what Tom wants..."

"And if that doesn't work?"

Rose bit her lip. It wasn't as though she had never thought of this, but that didn't mean it wasn't painful to do so. "He and I will have to discuss…options."

"Options?"

"You know…like an elopement or something."

"There are a lot of laws that restrict that sort of thing…have you even looked into them at all?"

"Yes, of course," Rose snapped defensively. "There's only one that really pertains to this situation anyway."

"And that is?

"It's illegal to marry without parent endorsement until one graduates from an accredited academy of magic. One year, Faye. That's all we need."

Faye was quiet for a long time, which made Rose uneasy. All she wanted was one of her closest friends to tell her she wasn't crazy; was that too much to ask? Finally, she said carefully: "Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

Perhaps it had been a great mistake to tell Faye anything at all. "Of course. I love him more than anything." She attempted to sound less defensive, but there was still an unfortunate hint of it in her voice.

"Do you love him enough to lose your family? Everything you have? They won't forgive you…"

"They're _my_ family, I should know!"

"All I'm saying is that you should take some time to think about it. Really think it through. You don't have to decide today."

"What do you think I've been doing? For the past few months, this is all I've thought about," Rose snapped. "How else do you think I got only an E on three of my finals?"

"Yes, what a tragedy that must be." Faye rolled her eyes. "Anyway, with Tom, you know I'll support you with whatever you choose, but just be cautious Rosie. Don't just jump into something."

Rose shifted onto her side and closed her eyes, pretending to fall asleep. As good as it felt to get out everything that had been swirling in her mind for so long, she couldn't help but feel an overwhelmingly crushing sense of disappointment. She knew that Faye was just looking out for her, but that wasn't what she was asking for. All she wanted was for Faye to support her blindly and keep her advice to herself. Of course the _one_ time that was all she wanted, Faye actually came up with rational advice that was rather hard to ignore.

Before speaking with her, Rose _was_ sure that she needed Tom more than she needed her parents, who only seemed to care about her when she was doing something they didn't agree with. Now, her thoughts and emotions were jumbled up and confused. As much as she wanted to ignore every warning her friend had just voiced, she couldn't. Because if _Faye_ was genuinely concerned, there was clearly something that she saw in the situation that Rose hadn't.

* * *

By the next morning, both of them were pretending as though the conversation the night before had never occurred.

"Do you want to take more Calming Draught? My mum has some in the medicine cabinet upstairs…"

Rose shook her head, which already felt a bit heavier than usual. "If I take any more, I'll fall off the broom."

"Well, have a good flight and have fun at the competition," Faye smiled at her warmly, but Rose couldn't be sure if she really meant it anymore.

It didn't change the fact that she had helped them, though. She owed Faye some gratitude at least. "Thank you for everything. I really appreciate it…we both do."

"Of course. Write me this summer, yeah? I'll be pretty miffed if you make me read about the tournament through the _Prophet_. We'll be back from New Zealand in late July, so let's plan on meeting up then."

Rose nodded. Perhaps she had been overly sensitive about the whole thing; Faye seemed to be perfectly supportive now, so maybe she just needed some time for things to sink in. She felt the worry that had abounded from their previous conversation quickly begin to fade away, though the Calming Draught she had taken was surely helping in that regard.

"Stay safe," her friend told her, giving her a quick hug before Rose mounted her broom and lifted into the air.

As the buildings beneath her grew smaller and smaller, she was increasingly thankful for the potion she took. Without it, her easily triggered motion sickness would have made the trip unbearable.

She ended up arriving in Paris later than expected, as her Calming Draught had begun to wear off in in the last fourth of the trip and she had to fly a bit slower to keep from becoming ill. She had hoped to meet up with Tom before the Opening Ceremony, but there wasn't enough time if she wanted to get herself cleaned up and tame her wind-blown hair.

Thankfully, if there was one thing her mother had taught her over the years, it was how to look completely put-together and polished in a very small amount of time. She looked around the busy streets and spotted a small tavern that looked relatively nice.

The bartender gave her a dirty look when she walked straight to the lavatory, but she was in too much of a rush to care. Rose locked the door behind her and pulled her trunk out of her pocket. It was quite a handy trick to shrink it; one that she hadn't really thought of before Tom suggested it, given that she rarely flew. She restored the trunk to its normal size and dug through it for one of her nicer dresses and a pair of heels. After throwing on her clothes and adding some quick make-up to cover her wind-ravaged skin, she detangled and curled her hair with a couple of charms. Then she piled everything, including the broom, back in her trunk and shrunk it back down to a pocket-sized form, tucking it inside her small clutch. All in five minutes flat.

On her way out, she paused to ask the bartender in French where the Tournament Center was, and the man grouchily informed her. Her mother had brought her to wizarding Paris quite a bit growing up; she could probably figure out where to go on her own, but the dinner was supposed to begin in twenty minutes and she didn't want to chance being late. At least, according to the bartender, it was only a few streets over.

When she arrived, she was slightly out of breath from how briskly she had been walking. She watched as elegantly dressed couples made their way inside. Rose composed herself and straightened her dress before walking gracefully to the door, where a man stood checking names off a list.

While she waited in line to gain entry, she felt eyes on the side of her face, and noticed that a tall man was staring at her from nearby, smoking a cigarette. Glancing at him was a mistake, as he promptly approached her with a smirk. In French, he said: "Your hair is exquisite; a truly beautiful shade."

"Thank you," she answered politely, a bit disturbed as the man looked old enough to be her father. Thankfully, she was nearing the front of the line and could escape him soon.

"Do you know what girls with red hair remind me of?"

"No," she said, quite sure she really didn't want to hear his answer.

"Firewhiskey…in _many_ splendid ways."

He said it right when she reached the front of the line and the doorman said, "Name, please."

Meanwhile, her face had fallen into a scowl and she was searching her mind for some sort of biting remark when a familiar voice said, "Rose. Good, you made it. I see you've met Beaumont."

She looked up to see Tom and was too appalled at the unfolding situation to notice how handsome he looked in his suit.

"You're Miss Horton?" the man who was apparently Tom's sponsor suddenly switched to English and turned slightly red, but still held a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Forgive me…the pleasure is all mine."

"Yes, it certainly is," she said bitingly.

"Did he _say_ something to you?" Tom asked heatedly, catching on to her agitation as he stepped down the stairs to join them on the platform below. Rose was too disturbed by the whole thing to answer and his sponsor looked away from them both. This apparently served as a sufficient answer to his question, because Tom turned to Beaumont and demanded, "What is _wrong _with you?"

"My apologies, Tom. I-"

"Miss, could I get your name please? There are other people waiting behind you." The doorman was becoming increasingly impatient.

"Her name is Rosemary Horton. She's with me," Tom answered curtly for her and put his arm around her shoulder, leading her into the party. She glanced up and saw him toss one final dirty look at his sponsor. "I'm sorry about him. He's probably been drunk since nine this morning."

"It's alright," she told him, even though it sort of wasn't. She wasn't offended so much as disappointed that the rest of the tournament would now be exceedingly uncomfortable. But at that moment, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was there, with Tom. She craned her neck to kiss him lightly; because of her heels, she didn't have to stand on her toes for once to reach him. "I'm so glad to be here."

He smiled at her and she could tell how incredibly happy and how completely in his element he was. "I'm glad you're here too. Come, I'll introduce you to the rest of the lot."

A tray of champagne floated by; she lifted a glass off of it and the bubbles tickled her lips as she took a sip. Rose knew in an instant that it was _real_ champagne, not the cheap knock-off that Faye bought on occasion. Classy; she was beginning to like the tournament scene quite a bit already.

It wasn't until then that she noticed just how many people were in the ballroom of the Center. There had to be at _least_ a thousand, all clearly older than them (ranging from anywhere between a few years and a few decades older by her eye) and all dressed quite glamorously. She was glad she had worn one of her nicest dresses, because even she, with all her years of attending social functions, might have felt out of place otherwise. It all felt quite dreamlike until she noticed the small pin on the front of his suit that read '_Official Dueling Contender_'.

"How many contenders are there?" she asked as he led her by the hand across the enormous room.

"Five hundred."

It was a staggering figure to wrap her head around. She had heard of the competition, of course, but didn't have the first clue about all the details as she hadn't really followed dueling before Tom. "You don't duel them all…right?"

"No, of course not," he smirked. "We're each randomly matched for five duels in the first round. Those who win three of the five progress to the second round and so on."

"Right, I see."

They reached a long banquet table and Tom stopped. His trainer, Curtis Jennings, was sitting on the end; she couldn't help but take it at least somewhat personally when his mouth remained firmly aligned with his frown lines after she said hello, even though Tom had assured her multiple times that he acted this way with everyone.

"Horton," he grunted, barely looking up from the table. Tom seemed not to notice, or, perhaps he had and had just grown accustomed to it.

"Please take your seats. Dinner service will begin shortly," a voice echoed throughout the hall.

"Well, I don't quite have time to introduce you now. You'll have to meet them all later this week," Tom said with a twinge of disappointment, as though he had been looking forward to it as much as she had. It was rather sweet. "I believe we're right here," he told her as he gestured to the two seats closest to Jennings. The place-card with her name in stylish lettering that rested on one of the plates proved him correct. Thankfully, Tom's spot was the one directly next to his trainer, so she'd at least have an opportunity for a good chat with someone else on the team.

She sat when he pulled out the chair for her and the rest of the table began to fill around them. A couple with friendly smiles, who looked to be in their early thirties, approached the two seats across from them. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Tom tense up; it was barely perceptible, but she had gotten quite good at reading him over the months.

"Riddle, good to see you again," the man greeted him while they settled into their seats.

"Rookwood," Tom muttered politely.

The wife's voice was as warm as her husband's. "And who is this? I didn't know you were bringing a date."

Rose introduced herself, as it was clear that for some reason or another Tom didn't want to speak with them. "I'm Rosemary Horton, Tom's steady. It's lovely to meet you."

"A pleasure to meet you as well," the woman smiled. "My name is Mara Rookwood and this is my husband, Augustus." Her husband gave Rose a nod and a smile and she smiled in return. It was then that she noticed he was wearing the same pin that Tom was. "You two make such a handsome pair," Mara said, "I'm sure people tell you that all the time."

It was true, they did. But Rose never really got tired of hearing it anyway. "Thank you," she smiled modestly.

"Are you a sixth year at Hogwarts as well?" Augustus asked her.

Rose nodded and proceeded to answer the couple's various questions about herself. She was puzzled by Tom's apparent dislike of them both; they seemed to be perfectly charming people. Then again, perhaps he was simply attempting to keep his distance from all the other competitors. She supposed she couldn't exactly blame him for that.

"Ah, long time no see."

Rose turned her head and watched in horror as none other than Raoul Beaumont slid into the seat next to her. She slowly looked the other way and exchanged glances with Tom, who was clenching his jaw in clear aggravation. Even so, neither he nor she would dare bring it up again in fear of making things even more uncomfortable, of course.

Raoul proved to be a different story: "My apologies for earlier," he said as he helped himself to a roll from the breadbaskets that had appeared in front of them. Then, as though nothing uncomfortable whatsoever had transpired, he picked up the basket and tilted it toward her. "Bread?"

"No thank you," she said formally, still keen to avoid any sort of further acknowledgement of their previous encounter. She'd get over it, or at least pretend to, to avoid creating any additional stress for Tom. Although, judging from the look on his face, his anger had progressed to a new level of seething.

"You young ladies are always trying to watch your figure," Beaumont chuckled.

She opened her mouth, readying a snappy quip to inform him that this, in fact, wasn't the case, but pursed her lips once more when he took out his wand and said "_Ustulario._" In response to the spell, the piece of bread he had taken turned a slightly darker shade of brown.

He smiled at her as though he hadn't violated one of the simplest table manners, and took a bite. "Much better."

If there was a personality trait that Rosemary disliked most extensively, it was certainly rudeness. To her, Raoul's apparent lack of social polish was rather disturbing, not to mention unexpected given his wealth. Flirting with her by accident was one thing, but toasting his bread to his particular liking and the comment about watching her figure was another altogether. Her mounting annoyance with him was beginning to make her blood boil in a way that made her wonder if she had suddenly developed a fever. Rose didn't dare look at Tom, who was surely just as annoyed as she was; part of her worried that it would only encourage him to say something.

Thankfully, they were both given a momentary distraction from Tom's bad-mannered sponsor when an aged wizard stepped onto the stage in the front of the room and began speaking.

"Good evening. My name is Wilbur Emery." He spoke energetically, or at least more so than she had expected given how ancient he appeared to be. "As this year's Tournament Coordinator, I would like to formally welcome you to the nine-hundred and sixty third Continental Wizarding Dueling Tournament, one of the oldest and most esteemed dueling competitions in the world." The room exploded in applause in such a way that made the excitement contagious. Emery began to speak once more and the crowd began to quiet. "After attending a few of the training sessions this week, I'm convinced that there will be no shortage of spectacular dueling talent in this year's competition. We owe much of that to the enormous dedication of each participant, trainer, and sponsor involved. But I would also like to take a moment to thank the family and friends of each competitor that have gathered here tonight to celebrate with us. Without your support, the tournament would not be where it is today." There was another bout of applause before he finished up his speech: "As I'm sure you are all sufficiently famished by now, we will begin dinner along with a performance by the Sorciers Orchestre de Paris."

An artfully plated dish soon appeared on every place setting in the room, which looked to be confit de canard served with red cabbage. The orchestra began to play as she glanced at Tom, giving him a small smile. He returned it with one of his own before starting on his dinner; their aggravation had faded nicely in all the excitement.

Just in time for Raoul to open his mouth once more, of course. "I went to their first performance actually, in 1910." He pointed at the band with his knife and Rose narrowed her eyes at it. At this rate, he was quickly becoming one of the most ill-mannered people she had ever met. "They're such an excellent, excellent group..." Then, as if the entire table would rather listen to his bottomless supply of trivia than the group itself, he proceeded to talk throughout nearly the entire performance.

"He's insufferable!" she hissed, as soon as the ceremony was over and they exited onto the street. "Honestly, the man is a compete prat. Couldn't he tell that nobody wanted to hear a damn thing he had to say about the Orchestra? And then there was the bread thing. Was it not _good enough_ for him?" She would have continued her sulky rant if she hadn't noticed the look of amusement on Tom's face. "What? Now, all of a sudden, you're fine with it?!"

"It's not that," he smirked.

"What, then?" she demanded.

"It doesn't get any better, Rosemary," he said. "You'll see."

* * *

_"Rudeness is the weak man's imitation of strength." ― Edmund Burke_

* * *

**Thank you to I thought I was the only one, RosiePosie15, CharlotteBlackwood, and Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack for reviewing the last chapter! The four of you are such awesome, dedicated reviewers. I hope you know how appreciated you are. This story has officially hit over 100 reviews, which is a first for me! Thank you again to ALL of you that have left a review on these first 27 chapters.**

**Also, thank you to my love for helping me come up with all of the ridiculously rude things that Beaumont does to piss off Rose.**

**I hope that this was at least a somewhat entertaining chapter to read! :D Next chapter will be in both POVs again, which means it probably won't take as long to write. Soo that's good! If my week goes according to plan, you'll be getting another update quite soon. Thank you for reading!(:**


	29. Part I - Inaudible Apology

**Ahh I'm sorry for the later-than-expected update! Something seems to come up every time I tell myself I'll post early...**

* * *

Inaudible Apology

_June 30, 1944_

Tom had just finished getting dressed and was straightening his tie when Rosemary rolled over in bed, giving him a sleepy smile. He enjoyed seeing her in the morning, bathed in drowsy tranquility. She propped her head on her hand and said, "I wish I could come with you."

He walked over and sat down on the bed next to her. "I know. But now that we're at the tournament, trainings have to be private. After all, you could be a spy sent by another competitor." Tom poked her side as he said it.

"You caught me," she laughed lightly. "Well, I'm sure Jennings is less bothered without me around. _Besides, _the tournament finally begins tomorrow!"

He nodded and plastered a smile on his face, the knots in his stomach tightening, though he would refuse to show it. As much as his ego had inflated since the day Beaumont informed him that he had the chance to compete, he wasn't ignorant enough to underestimate the other contestants. He didn't think he'd get eliminated in the first few rounds, of course, but it was impossible to think about dueling these well-trained, world-class competitors without at least a shred of anxiety.

"I still can't believe you're competing. I'm so proud of you, love." She reached up to stroke his cheek. "And, I must say, you're _certainly _the most handsome competitor."

"While that may be true, it isn't won on good looks," he smirked.

Rose smiled seductively at him and tugged on his tie. He glanced at the clock on the wall, allowing himself to give in to her when he saw that there was a little over ten minutes before he had to leave. Their lips met and he positioned himself on top of her, burying his hands in her hair as she pleasantly bit his bottom lip. He tossed aside the blanket that had been covering her and her unclothed body served as a satisfying reminder of the previous night's exploits. Perhaps even more satisfying was the way her breasts pressed against his chest as he leaned closer to her.

Then she ran her hands over his back and he closed his eyes, finding himself wondering how something so simple could feel so breathtakingly good. But, it all had to come to an end. He began to pull away and she groaned in protest. "We can make it fast," she muttered suggestively. It was tempting, of course, but he didn't want to be late for training either.

He stood once more, straightening his clothes so it didn't appear as though he had just been rolling around in bed and she responded with a teasingly pouty look. "Tonight," he promised her with a half-smile.

Rose must have accepted the fact that he wouldn't change his mind because she abruptly switched onto a different subject: "I think I'll go and try to find my grandfather today."

"Oh?" he said hesitantly. She had brought it up the night before and he was still rather unsure whether or not he should encourage her. He knew it would make her happy to see him, but there was also the chance that her grandfather would inform her parents that she was here with him, instead of with Faye.

Rose must have sensed some of his hesitation because she added, "I'll explain that he can't tell my parents I'm here. He'll understand…"

Those last two words, _He'll understand_, hit him like a slap in the face. It was a painful reminder that Tom's blood status always seemed to be at the front of her mind, even though she had attempted repeatedly to convince him that she only ever saw him as a pure-blood. Of _course_ her grandfather would understand, given the fact that he himself had married a half-blood.

Tom detested his own defensiveness on the matter as well as the irritation it made him feel toward her, but it couldn't be helped. Things always tended to get rather conflicting whenever he was reminded of his own blood status. "Well, I'm sure you'll have _plenty_ to talk about," he snapped.

Her face fell slightly. "Please don't be like that…I'd only be telling him because I'd have to in order to see him."

He disliked it when she told him not to "be" a certain way almost as much as he disliked being reminded of the fact that he was a half-blood. His anger was rising quickly when he said, "Well, actually, you don't _have_ to see him at all." He narrowed his eyes at her, but regretted his words immediately when he saw the pain of their impact spread across her features.

"Tom, I don't want to argue, but...don't you think you're being a little selfish? I haven't seen him in years."

The interaction he had with Faye before the end of the term came rushing back to his mind. Had _she_ put this idea in Rose's head, that he was selfish? Or was it something that Rosemary had merely discovered on her own? Either way, his defensiveness was beginning to reach all new heights. Unfortunately, as someone who hadn't experienced a great range of emotion as a child, he didn't really have the first clue how to deal with it. Anger, it would seem, was the easiest outlet; in his mind he didn't really know of any other option. The regrets from what he had said just a few moments ago were not quite enough to prevent him from saying: "_I'm _being selfish? The only reason you're here is because of me, you know."

She threw on one of his shirts that had been lying near the bed and stood. "You don't even seem to care that I want to see him."

"And _you_ don't even seem to care that he might not want to see _you_. _He_ was the one who left_ your_ family, remember? All for a filthy half-blood."

The air seemed to come to a halt and Rosemary just stood there, glaring at him for a few long seconds. It was then that he realized that she had never been this mad at him before. He almost immediately had the desire to calm her and take back some of the things he had said. It was cruel of him to tell her such a thing and he knew it; he certainly hadn't meant for his temper to get this far out of hand. But his pride inevitably seemed to get in the way of his desire for resolution; so of course, he didn't say a damned thing to her.

Without another word of her own, she stormed away into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. He was still angry and his judgment was still clouded by pride, but Tom didn't necessarily want to leave things in such an unpleasant state either. He strode over and gently knocked on the door; she didn't answer, though the water had begun running so perhaps she hadn't heard. Or maybe she was just ignoring him. He sighed as he glanced at the wall clock and realized he had to leave right then if he were to make it to training on time. Tom thought he might have heard her emit a tiny sniffle, but convinced himself that he just as easily could have imagined it. Then he left.

* * *

With their argument still fresh on his mind, it was much harder to focus on training than usual and, even worse, it was beginning to show. The fact that his practice duels with Rookwood were always such close calls was already humiliating enough; now that he was clearly losing– repeatedly– he could hardly bear it.

As there was a trainer per every two contestants on Beaumont's team, _of course_ he had gotten matched up with Rookwood: the one competitor he was actually attempting to avoid. It had been quite an unpleasant surprise, though when he thought about it, he probably should have expected that such a thing would happen. They were the only two contestants that Beaumont had sponsored from England, which was where Jennings resided as well. So, logistically it made sense. But that certainly didn't mean he was pleased about it.

"Riddle, what's wrong with you?" Jennings barked as Tom was disarmed for the fifteenth time that morning. Rookwood, on the other hand, had only been disarmed thrice. "I hope you realize the tournament starts _tomorrow_."

"Obviously," he snarled, grabbing his wand off the floor.

"Alright, go again! Disarm in ten spells or less."

This was typically how their sessions had been run since they arrived in Paris and began partner-training. They would complete nearly fifty duels, break for lunch, and then go another fifty. As much as Tom loved dueling, it was mentally exhausting: now that he was technically dueling one of his competitors, he couldn't simply allow his spells to fall into any sort of pattern. It was exceptionally difficult, given the fact that they were training together for a week, completing a hundred duels a day. He supposed it was good preparation, though. The tournament would require just as much strategic effort, if not more.

Thankfully, this time he was successful in disarming Rookwood, bringing the count to fifteen and four. It was still early; he could catch up and beat him overall. That is, if he could just forget about his exchange with Rosemary that morning.

"Nice job, Tom," Rookwood said as he picked up his wand, a kind smile spreading over his face.

That was yet another thing Tom hated about him: every time Rookwood lost, he said this, as though he had simply _let _Tom win. Even if that wasn't the case and he was actually just trying to be friendly, Rookwood was still the absolute last person he wanted encouragement from. Though Rose was still in the back of his mind, he was at least able to use his irritation with Rookwood to focus more on dueling and he slowly began to catch up:

Fifteen to five.

Sixteen to five.

Sixteen to six.

Sixteen to seven.

Sixteen to eight.

Sixteen to nine.

"Good morning, gentleman!" Beaumont's voice echoed throughout the room. "Sorry I couldn't make it yesterday, there was a sponsor meeting."

"Quite alright," Jennings muttered. Their dislike for Raoul was actually the only thing that Tom knew they had in common. Besides a passion for dueling, of course.

He could tell that Beaumont was sober whenever he looked half-dead; today was certainly one of those days. "Could I borrow Tom a moment?" the sponsor asked in a tired voice.

Jennings spoke again, in a voice only slightly louder than a whisper: "You're the one paying for this training session…"

Tom sighed and followed Beaumont into the hallway.

"How's training?"

"Fine," Tom answered curtly, knowing this could not possibly be the reason Raoul wanted to talk to him.

His intuition had proven correct: "So, erm, I realize this is rather uncomfortable to bring up, but I just wanted to clear the air…and all." Tom knew _exactly_ what that meant. Of course, he was referring to his rather terrible first encounter with Rosemary. "Anyway, if you could just let her know that I'm rather ashamed and sorry for what happened…"

"Why don't you just tell her yourself?" Tom snapped, in disbelief that Raoul had even dared to bring it up again. "You'll see her tomorrow at the tournament."

Or would he? Tom realized in alarm that she could well be angry enough with him to simply return home. What if those words he had said so unthinkingly in his blind temper were the end of them? He swore to himself that if she were still at the flat when he finished with training for the day, he would fix what he had done and prevent it from happening again.

"Everything alright, Riddle?" Beaumont asked him.

He was immediately appalled at himself for allowing his emotions to show through to such an extent. "I'm fine," he snapped again, "Though I'd be a lot better if you'd let me get back to my training, seeing as that's what I'm actually here for."

Raoul nodded and Tom turned to leave. "I know you're nervous, but you know you'll do well…I can honestly say that I can see you getting quite a few rounds in."

Tom said nothing before going back inside, knowing with nearly complete certainty that it was something the sponsor merely said to all the other contestants on the team.

* * *

After she was sure he left, Rosemary turned off the stream of water running into the bathtub, dried her eyes, and went back to bed. It was strange, how things could go from perfectly idyllic to utter chaos in a matter of a few seconds. She had just been thinking earlier that morning about how splendid it would be to spend the rest of their summer living together in a flat near Diagon Alley. Now she wasn't so sure; what if they fought like this all the time?

Perhaps he was right: maybe she was being selfish...after all, the entire reason she was really there was to support him. Although, even if this were true, there was certainly no need for him to say most of what he had to her. It seemed like this time, things had gone much too far. She tried to tell herself that the only reason he said those things was simply that the stress of the competition getting to him, but she couldn't quite make herself believe it. Not to mention the fact that, whatever the reasons behind his words were, it still wasn't really alright that he said them.

In reality, she was shaken to the point where her distress about the entire situation felt nearly tangible. It loomed over her like some invisible dark force, sapping her of the motivation to do anything but lay in bed until Tom came back to the flat. She was still angry with him, sure. But she also had an overwhelming urge to make things right between them.

After about an hour or two of staring up at the ceiling and thinking through their argument again and again, Rosemary realized that all she was actually doing was making herself more upset. She sighed in frustration and reached for the newspaper on her nightstand, attempting to employ a different technique to get through the day: distraction.

She had purchased the paper the day prior, when she had gone out for lunch and some shopping while Tom was at training. Thanks to her childhood tutoring in the French language and the many trips her family had taken to Paris before her grandfather remarried, she could read it with relative ease. Little caught her attention as she flipped through the pages. That is, until her eyes landed on an article that read:

_Rumors of Revolution Effort Accumulate_

_In the past year, there have been a growing number of rumors all over Europe regarding a mysterious revolution group that allegedly aims to abolish the International Statute of Secrecy. Very little is known about the group, except for the fact that significant factions of their members appear to be active in Germany, France, and Great Britain. As of now, there are no known members, though the group is rumored to be led by a wizard by the name of Gellert Grindelwald._

The paper carried on to say that the revolution group had been peaceful up to this point, but tensions were clearly beginning to grow between the magical governing bodies and them. Rosemary was honestly a bit shocked about it all, seeing as it was the first she had heard of it. She was almost positive that _The Daily Prophet _hadn't mentioned a thing about the group; surely, she would have remembered if they had. It clearly seemed as though they were intentionally underreporting information, which could mean that things were actually much more serious than even the French papers were letting on.

Well, it was certainly a distraction from her unpleasant exchange with Tom that morning, albeit a somewhat equally unnerving one. Her attention was sufficiently grasped and she had a sudden impulse to purchase the new paper from that day so she could scour it for any further mentions of the revolution effort.

As she climbed out of bed, she hit her toe on the corner of her trunk and swore aloud in pain. Eyeing it angrily, as though it had jumped into her path and forced her to trip over it, she grabbed her wand and shrunk it back down to the size it had been during her travels. Rose tossed it in the drawer before casting a quick charm to braid her hair and throwing on an outfit that looked at least somewhat decent. She left the door unlocked as she left, seeing as her plan was to simply run down to the street, buy a newspaper, and come back up to the flat.

While standing in line to pay for the paper, she got a bit caught up in people-watching and noticed a young girl, who couldn't be much older than five or six, standing by a nearby fountain with an old, gray-bearded man. Rose saw the aged wizard point at the fountain and say a few words before placing a coin in the girl's hand. She beamed up at him and tossed the coin into the water. Then, they continued down the street, walking hand in hand.

It hurt to see an interaction that bared such a close resemblance to the fond memories she had made with her grandfather as a child. As though a dam had suddenly burst inside of her, she was flooded with both the desire to reconnect with one of her most beloved family members as well as the unpleasant memory of her conversation with Tom on the topic. At least her plot of distracting herself had worked for a while. Now she would have to call on further measures: clearly, it was time for a stiff drink.

Rose paid for her paper and entered the bar that was housed next door to their apartment building. As she pulled up a seat at the front counter, she came to the realization that, technically, she could attempt to find her grandfather without making the mistake of mentioning such efforts to Tom again. But then, of course, she would feel guilty for hiding it from him. Plus, what if she were to find her relative and the visit went exceptionally poorly? Keeping it all a secret would be even _more_ difficult then.

She ordered a gin martini at the same time she decided to abide by Tom's wishes. Things would simply be much easier that way. There would be other chances to reunite with her grandfather, after all. Besides, she had no idea how difficult it would have been to find him in the first place or how to even go about doing so.

She supposed it wouldn't hurt to at least ask, though…it wasn't as if she had to _do_ anything about any information she found out about him.

The bartender set the tall glass down in front of her and, rather impulsively, she asked, "Do you by chance know a man by the name of Emerson Cantrell?"

He shook his head and she looked down at her drink in disappointment. While he had been exceptionally fast at preparing it, she downed it in an even shorter time before ordering another.

Rose picked up her newspaper while sipping her refilled martini in hopes of distracting herself once more. Unfortunately, there was no mention of the revolution effort to be found. Feeling quite defeated, and frankly a bit depressed, she eventually paid for her drinks and made her way back to the flat.

By this time, she had completely forgotten about the fact that she had left the door unlocked. A bit of immediate panic washed over her, but it wasn't as though she had been gone _that_ long. Perhaps an hour; two, at most. She twisted the knob and felt thankful that at least Tom was still at his training and wouldn't come home to an unlocked, empty flat.

Which was exactly why it came as a considerable surprise when she saw him sitting on the couch; so much of a surprise, in fact, that she momentarily forget all about her previous anger with him. "I'm surprised you're home so early. What about training?"

"You're here," he said, his voice sounding almost as surprised as she felt, which puzzled her a bit. She attempted to figure out the meaning behind his words while he added, "Beaumont cancelled the rest of our training today. He told us that adequate rest is more important than completing numerous drills at this point..." His voice trailed off for a few moments before stating, "I thought you'd left."

"I did," she told him, holding up the newspaper she purchased.

Tom walked over to where she was standing. "No, I mean Paris. The tournament. Your trunk was gone and your key was here."

"My trunk is still here, I just shrunk it down again to get it out of the way. And I left my key because I was just planning to run down to the street and buy the paper before coming back up." She paused before asking. "Why would I have left?"

When he didn't answer, the memories of that morning came flooding back and it dawned on her that he truly believed she had been angry enough to leave after the things he had said to her. Apparently, he had actually been quite worried, which was a notably rare occurrence for Tom Riddle. He was trying to hide it and the even tone of his voice did so quite well, but his eyes told a different story. Like her, he had clearly been thinking about their argument all day and it had shaken him just as much.

There was something about seeing the worry in his eyes slowly replaced with relief that made everything click in her head. She understood instantly that the spark of his short temper that resulted from any mention of his blood status, likely paired with some excess stress from the rapidly approaching tournament, had been to blame.

Suddenly it all seemed to make sense on a deeper level, too. She realized he didn't actually need to apologize or sacrifice his pride for her to know that he was sorry. Rose didn't want him to; just as she wouldn't want to sacrifice her own pride if she was in the same position. Seeing the emotion in his eyes was enough closure and she understood he would love her more for realizing it. In some significant way, she felt as though this realization also confirmed the fact that she truly knew him: _all_ of him, even the parts he had tried to hide from her. It was through such an awareness that made her feel more connected to him than she ever had before. Things suddenly seemed so simple and she found herself wondering why all this hadn't fully occurred to her earlier.

He opened his mouth and she kissed him before he could say anything as a sign that she understood him. And then it was her turn to wait for a sign: one that told her he knew she understood. It came as his forcefully returned kiss; forceful enough, in fact, to push her back against the wall. He pinned his body against hers and she reveled in the beautiful moment they had stumbled upon: the moment she was convinced that she knew him completely. She had fallen for him all over again.

* * *

"_Some hearts understand each other, even in silence."― Yasmin Mogahed_

* * *

**So it's a little sappy, I know. But now we have Rose completely smitten with Tom once more, which needed to happen after last chapter's talk with Faye and the doubts that had entered her mind because of that. I can't help but feel a bit sorry for her, though - we all know that Tom has a lot more to him than she realizes. Understanding his pride is only really a step in completely understanding him. I know she probably seems a little naive about him right now, but just be patient and keep in mind that he is VERY good at hiding certain parts of himself.**

**Anyway, thanks a ton to A regrettable decision, jeanettemiller1999, RosiePosie15, and Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack for your lovely reviews. :D**

**And thank you all for reading!**


	30. Part I - A Priceless Gift

A Priceless Gift

_July 5, 1944_

Rose crossed her arms and looked down at the platform where Tom would soon begin his first duel of the day. Although she had thought the crowd at the opening ceremony at the tournament was quite large, it paled in comparison to the number of people at the actual event. There were at least ten duels going on at a time and, even so, at least three hundred or so people gathered to see each one.

She _should_ have been at the very front of the crowd, right next to the platform, instead of so far up in the stands. Tom could have guaranteed her a spot there. But things weren't that simple; for if she were in the front row, she risked being caught in a photograph that might wind up in _The Prophet_ and completely ruin the cover story she had sold to her parents.

No, that was much too risky. So, instead, she had to watch him from afar. This would have been a tad more bearable if it hadn't been for the rather sizable gaggle of fan girls he seemed to accumulate throughout the first four days of the tournament. As he had officially made it through the first round and had proven himself a worthy competitor, the girls seemed to be becoming more fanatical and numerous with each duel he completed. It certainly didn't help that they were all under the impression that he was single, seeing as she and Tom couldn't exactly advertise their relationship. In the first few days he had become a favorite with the press and as such, they could rarely risk being seen together outside the privacy of their flat.

"Rosemary, good morning!"

She turned her head in the direction of the cheery voice and hid her disdain to the best of her ability when she saw its source. "Good morning, Mrs. Rookwood."

"Oh please, call me Mara," the woman said. "Mind if I take the seat next to you? Augustus is dueling on this platform after Tom so I thought I might come a bit early to see Tom's as well."

"Of course. That's very thoughtful of you," Rosemary told her politely. So politely, in fact, that it might have been confused with sarcasm, which was actually how she meant it of course. Ever since Tom had informed her that Mrs. Rookwood was a muggle-born, Rose had been as appalled as he and immediately understood his slight aloofness toward them during the opening ceremony dinner.

"Why aren't you standing down in the front, dear? You would have a much better view."

_Obviously_.

"I would if I could," Mara continued, "but I tend to get a bit too claustrophobic in crowds."

"It's the same for me," Rosemary lied, relieved that she had basically been provided with an answer to Mrs. Rookwood's nosy question instead of having to think of her own.

She didn't even need to look at the platform to know that Tom had stepped on it: the shrieks of the girls in the front few rows were enough of an indication. Of course, there wasn't actually anything for her to be jealous of. It wasn't as though Tom paid them any attention, after all. But listening to them chant his name (and even seeing them hold up a few hand-made signs in some cases) was certainly beginning to get a bit old. Rose lit a cigarette and scowled down at them all, though her expression shifted to a smile when she and Tom locked eyes and he gave her a barely noticeable smirk.

The match's commentator began to speak as the Tom and the other contestant went through the motions of completing the traditional dueling conducts, such as the slight bow to each other. "Our next duel is between Tom Riddle and Luca Segreti. This will be the first duel of the second round for each of them. Wands at the ready!" The announcer paused as both Tom and Luca posed themselves to strike with their first spells. "Three! Two! One! Begin!"

Although the beginning of the duels always _sounded_ very dramatic with the countdown and whatnot, not much of anything usually happened within the first five or ten seconds. As Tom had explained to her one night, it was always a bit of a mind game between the two contestants to see who would throw the first spell. As the commentators had too little action to broadcast a play-by-play, they often continued to speak about each contestant after the duel had already begun:

"Both Segreti and Riddle easily made it past the first round, with Segreti winning each of his five duels and Riddle winning four of his five."

Rose held her breath, hoping that the announcer hadn't distracted Tom too much by bringing up the fact he had lost one of his first round duels. She had attempted to remind him that it was impressive that he had gotten through the first round at all, but it didn't really keep him from getting disappointed by the defeat.

Thankfully, it seemed as though he wasn't fazed by the comment at all; in fact, just a second or two after the announcer had spoken, Tom fired the first spell of the duel and it just barely made contact with Segreti. It became clear that Tom had actually used the comment to his advantage; he must have figured that Luca was preoccupied thinking the same thing Rose was: that Tom would be distracted. In the split second that Segreti wasn't focused on the duel, Tom had successfully gained the upper hand.

The older competitor's face twisted into a glowering look as the crowd went crazy. Rosemary knew, then, that Tom had unofficially won the duel. That was what it always seemed to mean when she saw that look of rage on the face of whoever he was dueling. She had certainly seen enough of his matches, both at Hogwarts and the tournament, to realize that manipulating the emotions of his opponent was the most essential part of his strategy. Rose suspected that Tom knew that anger (or at least minor irritation) were the easiest to evoke as well as exploit; it was easy for duelers to make mistakes with the distraction of such emotions. It had become clear that none of the other competitors were keen on losing to a seventeen year-old boy and with the added fact that Tom had also become one of the crowd's favorites, his strategy to unnerve his opponents seemed easier than ever before.

Eight spells later it was over, as Tom disarmed Segreti. She immediately rose from her seat, applauding and cheering with the rest of the crowd. At least twenty cameras were taking his picture and before he could even get off the platform, reporters seemed to be bombarding him with questions. He seemed to be ignoring them, though; his eyes locked on hers once more and he grinned. She beamed back at him, clapping even louder.

Rosemary climbed down from the stands and checked the program to choose which duels she would see in order to kill time before Tom's next match. Of course, just as she escaped Mara, Beaumont had approached her. There was little she could do, seeing as he had basically snuck up on her whilst she was reading the tournament program.

"Some match, wasn't it Miss Horton? One of the fastest I've seen so far."

Why was he even at Tom's match? Wasn't Zhou dueling at the same time? Although she would never admit it to Tom, she thought that Zhou was probably the best of Beaumont's sponsored contestants. Rose had seen a couple of his first round duels and she thought it was quite possible that he might win the entire tournament. As such, she would have thought that Beaumont would be especially invested in him and would have elected to go to his matches instead of anyone else's on the team if they were scheduled at the same time.

But yet, there he was, looking at Tom proudly as though he had personally trained him to duel so brilliantly.

"Yes," she answered politely. "Tom dueled quite well." She watched Tom hop off the platform and become immediately swarmed by both reporters and his fan girls. Rose grimaced, wishing she could have been the first to congratulate him as he stepped off the stage.

"I figured this would happen," Raoul chucked, gesturing to the lunatic girls that were throwing themselves at Tom. "I told him that he might regret bringing you here. That was, of course, before I met you and realized what a lovely person you are. He is also _much_ less interested in the attention than I might have expected." Beaumont paused and Rose immediately regretted her grimacing look at them, as that had clearly been the reason he brought up such a thing. "He's certainly not a typical kid, is he? I mean, obviously…he is here after all. But what do you think the difference is?"

"Maturity," Rosemary said pointedly. As she had seen from Beaumont's piggish interactions with women (including herself), she realized that Tom clearly possessed a sense of maturity that his sponsor lacked in tremendous amounts.

"That could be," he said, looking as though he was considering her words. "I have to say, he reminds me a bit of my younger self."

Rose didn't understand how that could _possibly_ be true. They had little, if anything at all, in common in terms of personality. After all, if they were so similar, she certainly wouldn't be able to stand being around Tom.

"Anyway, it's clear that you have no reason to be jealous. I can see from the way he looks at you and speaks about you that he is completely enthralled. And, I might add, he has every reason to be."

For one, she _wasn't _jealous. And two: even if she was, she certainly wouldn't want Beaumont knowing about it. She could think of little that would be more humiliating; she had grown to dislike him so much that his compliment made her skin crawl. "I'm not jeal-" she began defensively.

"I've got to get going," Beaumont interrupted her, glancing down at his watch. "I'm going to watch Wilson in the next room over. A pleasure speaking with you as always."

'_I wish I could say the same,' _she thought, though she kept her mouth shut and forced it instead into a small, polite smile.

"Oh! And I wish a happy birthday to you, Miss Horton."

"Thank you," she muttered, fighting the urge to tell him that the best birthday present of all that she could receive would be for him to simply leave her alone.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to risk it? There's really no need…" Rosemary called from the bedroom, where she was getting dressed.

"Nonsense," he told her. "It's your birthday and we're going to dinner to celebrate."

"And what if the press sees us? That would be the biggest news of the day, seeing the young and handsome Tom Riddle out on a date."

He couldn't help but smirk at the trace of bitterness that had accompanied her words. She was clearly getting tired of having to stay away from him at the tournament. But they had to, of course. Although, as much as Tom disliked the fact she couldn't always be around him, it _was _rather fun sneaking around with her.

"We'll make sure they don't."

"Alright," she said hesitantly, appearing at the bedroom door. When he saw her, he couldn't help but stare and seemed to lose track of all conscious thought. "What?" she asked. "Does my hair look bad or something?"

"Not at all. It's just…you. You're beautiful." It was true; in fact, she was probably the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Although, it still baffled him from time to time that it had taken so long to notice. He could no longer remember what it felt like to be without this overwhelming attraction to her.

"You're only saying that because it's my birthday," she told him, though his compliment did evoke a small smile from her lips anyway.

Tom walked over to meet her at the front door of the flat. "I can assure you that is not the case." He bowed his head to kiss her forehead; if he had kissed her enticing lips instead, he knew she would have scolded him for messing up her lipstick.

Even though he disliked the idea of Rosemary walking by herself at night, she convinced him that it would be best if they traveled separately to the restaurant. He arrived first and was seated in the dimly lit corner he had requested when making the reservation earlier that week. About ten minutes later, the hostess led her to the table.

"It's just as I remember it," she smiled at him. Apparently the restaurant had been a favorite of hers when she had visited the city as a child.

Rosemary ordered a glass of wine when their waiter came and Tom elected not to, primarily because it meant a few less French words for him to stumble over while looking like a fool. She, on the other hand, had no problem rattling things off in French with a near perfect accent. Well, perfect to his untrained ears, at least. Although he did feel rather inadequate compared to her fluency, he had to admit that it _was_ quite attractive to hear her speaking in an entirely different language. He respected the fact that she was intelligent in all sorts of ways, not just with magic.

"So, Beaumont spoke to me today…" Her dislike of him was obvious in the way she had said his name, as though it were a dirty word.

"Ah. Did he make an ass of himself as usual?"

"Naturally," she sighed. Overall, Tom tended to think her loathing toward his sponsor was rather amusing, considering the fact that he had never seen her truly detest someone before. The fact that her distaste was aimed at someone he also disliked made things all the better.

But tonight, Tom didn't want her to dwell on such things. Tonight, there wasn't supposed to be anything but happy thoughts in her mind. He was determined to give her a perfect evening not only because it was her birthday, but because there was quite a bit of residual guilt in his mind from their argument a few days prior.

Even though he had thought it to be impossible for his love of her to grow any further, it certainly had after the way she had handled the situation with him. She had proven that she understood him in a way he had never expected her to. But, despite the fact that they had moved past it and he had vocalized his changed opinion that she should seek out her grandfather, he still felt the weight of remorse. Tom knew he had to start preventing his temper and pride from wreaking havoc between them; she deserved better. So, he was determined to make that night into the start of a new chapter for them: one that guaranteed he was treating her fairly.

His first order of business in creating a perfect night for Rose was to rid her mind of her annoyance with Beaumont. While he had been planning to wait until after dinner to give her her birthday present, he supposed that now was as good a time as any. Tom took out the tiny box from his pocket and set it down on the table in front of her.

She looked at the box, then him, then back down at it again before taking it in her hands and opening it. He relished the little gasp she gave when she saw what was sitting inside. "Oh, Tom…they're beautiful. But you shouldn't have gotten me these…I mean, really…these had to cost-" Rosemary abruptly stopped herself, probably under the assumption that bringing up his shortage of money would spark his temper.

In reality, it did, but as he had promised himself, he wouldn't allow it to get out of control. Tom told himself to stay calm, to breathe in and out and focus only on that for the moment. It wasn't as though she said it to offend him, not to mention the fact that it was basically true – he didn't really have any money to his name.

Well, at least not loads of it. Yet. But what Beaumont had told him about the tournament had been slightly off. Tom had still won twenty galleons per match in the first round, but as the competitors progressed through the second, third, fourth, and final rounds, the winnings per match increased. Just from that day, he had won a hundred galleons: fifty each from the two matches. At first he had been curious as to why his sponsor had left out this detail, but perhaps he had simply assumed that Tom would be eliminated in the first round. Regardless, Tom was becoming more and more confident that he would continue to advance through the competition and would have plenty of funds to rent a flat the rest of the summer, to add to his savings, and of course, to give Rosemary the gifts he wanted to.

With this in mind, he was able to talk himself out of his temper. It was a tad tiring, but not _so _bad. He could get used to it…probably.

"Try them on, won't you?" he asked her.

She nodded, looking rather surprised (or, relieved perhaps) at his lack of defensiveness from her comment about the cost of the gift. He watched as she took out her diamond earrings and replaced them with her new pair: sapphires encircled by their own set of diamonds.

"They match your eyes."

Rose smiled at him and leaned across the table to kiss him lightly. "They're absolutely beautiful. Thank you."

"They have an added feature, actually."

"What do you mean?"

"There is a charm placed on them so that when you're wearing them, they sort of filter out anyone's voice you don't want to hear. They will also control some of your movements– such as giving you the impulse to nod or say a few words in response to them– so it looks as though you're listening as politely as ever. You may never have to listen to a word that Beaumont says to you again…" he smirked.

"This is the most amazing gift I think I've ever received." She beamed at him.

"I'm glad you like them. Shall we try out the charm?" he asked as he saw the waiter coming their way

Rosemary nodded in excitement. "How do I activate it?"

"All you have to do is consciously think that you'd rather not hear this person speaking."

The waiter arrived and set down her glass of wine before saying something in French, presumably asking if they were ready to order. Tom sat back, watching as Rosemary replied and the waiter strode away. "Well?" he asked expectantly.

"It worked!" Rose smiled. "I heard myself say that he should come back in a few minutes, but that was it. Absolutely brilliant."

Even though he had known she would love them the moment he picked them out, seeing her reaction was the best moment of all. Honestly, it had been quite rewarding to take this annoyance off her mind by providing a solution. It made him want to fix other things for her, too. He wanted to find a way to placate her parents and make things much simpler; he wanted to reunite her with her grandfather after her four days of searching with no progress. Essentially, he wanted to eliminate or resolve _anything_ that bothered or upset her. There was nothing in the world that made him feel like she did when she was happy.

And, before the night was finished, he would ease another point of stress in her mind. Well, if everything went to plan, of course.

The rest of their dinner was pleasant and filled with light chatter about the tournament and the letter she had received from Faye, who was currently vacationing with her family in New Zealand. Tom paid their tab and they left out the backdoor of the restaurant, into an alleyway. It may have been a bit excessive, but if it would satisfy Rosemary's paranoia about getting seen by the press, he didn't really mind.

"Thank you for such a lovely dinner." She kissed him. "Should I leave to go back to the flat first, or are you going to? If I am, I'll need a key…I accidentally left mine there."

"Actually, we have one more stop to make," he told her.

"Are you sure? What if-"

"No one is going to see us. It's nowhere near the tournament center."

He held out his arm for her and she reluctantly took it. "I don't have to close my eyes this time, do I?"

Tom smirked to himself; her questions reminded him of the night that he had taken her to the Chamber of Secrets. The same night they had shared their first dance and first kiss. The night they became Tom and Rose. It was less than five months ago, but it felt much longer: so much had happened. Things had been quite simpler then; there was no constant threat of her parents and the complications that came along with that. In that moment he felt nostalgic– that bittersweet stab –for perhaps the first time in his life.

They walked side by side for several blocks. "Where on earth are you taking me?" she asked.

"You'll see."

It was at that exact moment that he stopped, reading the number on the door they had just passed, and realized that they had reached their destination. Tom led her to the door and knocked, while she gave him a puzzled look. His response was simply a smirk.

He wished there had been a way for him to capture the perfect amalgam of surprise and bliss that spread across her face when she saw who opened the door. All over again, he was struck with the realization that seeing her smile and knowing that he was the one who caused it made him feel the closest he had ever been to whole.

"Granddad Em!" she explained, throwing her arms around the elderly man's neck.

Her grandfather looked just as shocked as she did. "Rosemary? Merlin, love, I hardly recognized you."

Rose turned to Tom and he could see the tears of happiness in her eyes. "I can't believe it. How did you find him?"

"I have my ways," he told her with a smirk.

Ironic as it was, the one person that had ultimately known of her grandfather was none other than Beaumont. But there was absolutely no reason at all she should know that.

* * *

"_And in her smile I see something more beautiful than the stars." – Beth Revis_

* * *

**Sooo yay, I finished this chapter pretty quickly! I'm attempting to make up for my slow update times these past few weeks...**

**Thank you to all the new follows and favorites. We are quickly approaching 200 follows, which would be amazing to reach. :D Also, thank you to the lovely reviewers that gave me feedback on the last chapter: A regrettable decision, CharlotteBlackwood, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, and RosiePosie15.**

**Hopefully you enjoyed reading this one.(: Next chapter will focus mainly around Rosemary's reunion with her grandfather!**

**Please let me know what you think by submitting a review below! I'd love to hear from some of you that I haven't yet (or those of you I haven't heard from in a while). **


	31. Part I - History Repeats

History Repeats

_July 5, 1944_

Rose had been so caught up in her shock that she had forgotten to introduce Tom. Thankfully, instead of waiting for her to come to her senses, he stuck out his hand and introduced himself: "Tom Riddle," she heard him say.

"Emerson Cantrell." Her grandfather shook his hand in return and gave him a friendly smile. "Please, come in."

They stepped inside the house, which was quite different from the one she remembered him living in before with her grandmother. It was much smaller and not nearly as tidy. A rather disturbing thought crossed her mind: did he live without a house-elf? Where was the evidence of his wealth?

He gestured to the couch and said, "Have a seat. I'll ask Vivian to put on some tea."

At first Rose felt a bit relieved, thinking that Vivian was his house-elf's name. But then she realized, along with a sinking feeling, that he was actually referring to the woman he had remarried after her grandmother had passed away. The same woman that had stolen him away from her family.

But that wasn't really how it went, was it? She knew so, even though it was easier to believe that it hadn't been her grandfather's choice. It was painful to feel like he consciously abandoned her and her mother by choosing this woman over them. Even given this fact, Rose couldn't even be angry with him about it: if the situation between her parents and Tom didn't improve by the time they graduated from Hogwarts, she would be making the same choice her grandfather had.

"Are you alright?" Tom placed his hand on the small of her back and whispered as Emerson left the room. Rosemary nodded and gave him a small smile before they took a seat next to each other on the couch.

Her grandfather reentered the room shortly after and settled into a nearby armchair. He shook his head slightly before saying "I can't believe how much you've grown. You're a young lady now…Wait a moment. Today is the fifth of July, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"Well, then happy birthday, my darling. That makes you…seventeen, yes? Seventeen…" There was a trace of sadness and regret in his voice as he repeated her age out loud.

It made her tear up a bit to think about the years that had gone by in his absence. Although, she really had no desire to dwell on it and break down in front of everyone, so she fought away her tears and changed the subject: "You were quite difficult to find, you know; I asked everyone I ran into if they knew of you. I even stopped by your old house, thinking you may still live there."

"I sold it a few years ago," he explained. "And, admittedly, I don't leave the house very often; only once or twice a week to visit the pub down the street. That's what happens when you're old." He winked at her.

A woman who she assumed was Vivian carried in a tray that held their tea and set it down on the coffee table.

"Vivian, this is my granddaughter Rosemary and her friend Tom."

The woman gave each of them a friendly smile coated in so much warmth that the room suddenly felt humid. She had a round, soft face with quite a few wrinkles, particularly around the corners of her dark brown eyes. Rosemary supposed she was pretty, at least in terms of elderly standards, but she was quite plain in comparison to her late grandmother, Alana. Rose could remember much of her: her cheekbones that were so defined they looked as though they were cut from stone; the dignified look she always wore on her face; the bright blue eyes and dark red hair that matched Rose and Evelyn's. There was one other thing she could remember, too: her arrogant callousness. It was striking, really, that nearly every detail of Alana and Vivian contrasted so sharply.

Then again, there was probably a reason behind it.

"I'm so happy to finally meet you," the older woman stood before her and opened her arms in expectation of a hug.

Rosemary stood and hesitantly gave in.

When she was finally released, Vivian began serving their tea and Rosemary realized with a sinking feeling in her stomach that her grandfather's wife wasn't going anywhere. As happy as she was to be given the chance to catch up with him, she wished it had just been the two of them.

Tom held up his hand as Vivian was about to pour him a cup. "Thank you, but I don't plan to stay." He turned to look at Rosemary. "I'll wait at the pub on the corner; I'm sure the two of you have quite a bit to catch up on."

She instantly knew what he was doing and she loved him for it: if he left, Vivian might feel out of place and let the two of them speak privately. "Are you sure?" she asked him, feeling a tad guilty that he set all of this up for her just to leave.

"Of course."

"It's called LaPoite's," Emerson chimed in. "The pub, I mean."

Tom nodded. "Well, it was a pleasure to meet the both of you." Vivian led him to the front door and he glanced back at her with a small smile before stepping outside.

Rosemary held her breath for the next few moments, hoping his leaving hadn't been for nothing and that Vivian had taken the hint. She lingered in the living room for a moment, but finally announced in a cheerful voice: "Right before you arrived, I was working on sewing a quilt upstairs. I think I'll get back to it so you can visit."

She somehow kept herself from wrinkling her nose in disgust. Sewing a quilt? It was such a very muggle thing to do. But, at the same time, she didn't really care _what _Vivian's excuse was as long as she excused herself. "Thank you for the tea," Rosemary said with a modest grin.

"Of course, dear. So nice to finally meet you."

As much as Rose wanted to dislike her, she couldn't. Vivian was too damned friendly and besides that, it seemed somewhat heartless to dislike an elderly person.

"He seemed like a nice lad," Emerson told her as his wife wandered away down the hall.

"He is. He's…" She searched her mind for the right word, but none of them seemed to do him justice. Especially given everything he had done for her that evening. "Amazing," she finally said.

Her grandfather leaned forward in his chair slightly. "Now, you must tell me: what on earth are the two of you doing in Paris?"

"Haven't you seen the papers?" she asked him in disbelief. Surely he had recognized Tom from the tournament reports.

He shook his head. "I haven't read the paper in ages. It's depressing, everything that's going on in the world. It makes for a much happier and less paranoid existence to remove yourself from it all."

"Well surely you've heard of the Continental Wizarding Dueling Tournament?"

"Yes, of course…It began just last weekend, didn't it? One of the sponsors owns LaPointe's. I haven't spoken with him in a while because he's been so busy preparing for the competition. I wonder if you've heard of him; his name is B-"

"Well, you aren't going to believe this, but Tom is competing!" Rosemary knew it was rude to interrupt, but she was too excited to tell him about Tom. But, it wasn't only that: she had been swiftly reminded of her grandfather's tendency to ramble. Thankfully, she also remembered the fact that he rarely took offense if interrupted.

Emerson looked both surprised and impressed. "Really? I thought you looked about the same age, but perhaps I've gotten to be a bad judge of it."

"We are; he's going to be entering his seventh year at Hogwarts this fall, just as I am. He's the youngest person ever to compete in the tournament."

"That's astounding...he must be exceptionally clever. A Ravenclaw as well?"

"Slytherin. But he _is _exceptionally clever; we were chosen as Head Boy and Girl."

"Oh, Rosemary, that's wonderful! I'm so glad to hear you were chosen…that's quite an accomplishment and you certainly deserve it. Even as a little girl, everyone could see your brilliance. Congratulations, love."

"Thank you." She smiled down at her cup of tea.

"And I'm sure your mother and father are as equally impressed with Mr. Riddle as I am."

She felt an inevitable feeling of dread at his words, knowing that she would have to clarify. "It's a bit more complicated than that. But before I say anything, I need your word that you won't tell my parents I visited."

"Rosemary," he started sternly. "You really shouldn't disobey them in such a way…It's disrespectful. You know-"

"He's a half-blood," she dropped her voice to a hiss so Vivian wouldn't hear her from the other room. She was not particularly interested in listening to the rest of the lecture he had started in on.

Emerson sat back in his chair and sipped his tea, looking at her for a long moment. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he said, "Just curious – is it your mother or father who seems to be more opposed to your being with him?"

"My father," she told him. "Which is a bit strange, really, seeing how Mum was the one who cared so much when you remarried." As they had never spoken directly about the rift in their family that had been created by his second marriage, it felt odd to say such a thing.

Surprisingly, her grandfather looked almost amused. "Ah…yes, I see." She gave him an expectant look and he continued on to ask: "Did your parents ever tell you about the way they ended up together?"

She shook her head. "Not really, no. I know they went to Hogwarts together…and that they were both in Ravenclaw, of course. I suppose I always sort of assumed Mum was impressed with Father's Quidditch talents."

"Well those things are all true, but that wasn't how they ended up together."

Rosemary was quickly losing patience. How was any of this relevant at all to what she had told him? "Okay," she said, hoping he would quickly wrap up his story and give her some genuine advice.

"Well I can't imagine that she would have told you, but there was another boy that went to Hogwarts. Pierce, wasn't it? I can't be sure…it was so many years ago. Anyway, I remember that he was quite clever – not Head Boy material, mind you, but clever enough. He was also a Slytherin…and a half-blood. And your mother was positively _enthralled_ with him. So much so that, more than a few times, we thought we might check her for signs of Amortentia."

He paused and chuckled a bit to himself. "Well, of course, your grandmother loathed him entirely. She had always been quite prejudiced about that sort of thing. And, as much as I regret some of the things I did in those years, it was my job as her husband to uphold the ideals that she so strongly believed in. Another thing you have to understand is that Evelyn _adored_ her mother and wanted to be a part of everything she did. She would beg and beg Alana for hours to take her to any of the galas or tea luncheons. I think your grandmother was afraid that she would lose that admiration of her daughter if she was too vocal about her disapproval of Evelyn's courtship with Pierce. So, as you might expect, the undesirable aspects of parenting often fell on me instead. In the end, I gave her an ultimatum: marry Pierce or forever lose her place in the pureblood world and face the fact that she could never be like her mother. Well, we all know how the story ends, of course: your mother married Basil a year and a half later and named you after her mother."

Emerson sighed, setting down his tea and looking at her with a heartbreakingly sad look. "Anyway, giving her that ultimatum was a decision I've regretted every day since. I know, now, that even with all of Alana's prejudices, she would have accepted their marriage eventually because of her love for Evelyn. Now, your mother simply sees me as a hypocrite."

To say that she was shocked by everything her grandfather had just told her would be a vast understatement. She was initially incapable of formulating any sort of response in her head and had not even begun to process any of it. "So your advice to me is to be with Tom, right?" she eventually managed, even though she was merely scraping at the surface at his words.

He looked at her cautiously. "I'm not sure what advice I'm giving you," he told her. "Your situation seems to be a bit more…complicated."

"How do you mean? It's precisely the same...well, sort of. Mum and I have never really been that close, but maybe in her eyes..."

"I don't think your Basil is merely enforcing your mother's beliefs, like I did for Alana. First of all, Evelyn was clearly never as prejudiced as her mother. Your father may also be taking all of this a little too personally…I'm almost positive that Evelyn was still very much in love with Pierce when she and Basil married and I wouldn't be surprised if your father knew it. I remember all the things he did for her that first year they were married – he bought her that enormous house and filled it with all those pretty things. It was obvious that he truly loved her, just as much as she loved Pierce. But even with all his attempts at winning her, there was still this gloominess about her for quite some time. I could see it in her every time we came to visit. Things got better when she got pregnant with you; I think it was then that she truly made peace with her choice. Regardless, even though I know admittedly next to nothing about your situation, I believe that your father might see Tom as a reminder of a very painful time in his life. I can't simply tell you for certain whether or not he would eventually accept the two of you."

Rosemary slowly nodded in understanding. Everything he told her certainly fit and seemed to make sense given the way her parents had acted, though it wasn't particularly good news for her and Tom. If anything, it made her feel rather hopeless about the prospect of him proving himself to her family. Still, she felt as though she had gotten much more than she bargained for (and in such a short amount of time) from her visit with her grandfather. The information he had given her would certainly be useful going forward.

"You won't tell them I visited, will you?" she asked nervously.

At first he looked hesitant, but his face softened. "You have my word, dear."

* * *

Tom's fingers traced her newly naked body just the way he knew she liked. His mind was still spinning a bit from her account of the conversation with her grandfather, but they slowly evaporated from his consciousness as he became more absorbed in what he was doing.

Since she arrived in Paris, there hadn't been a single night that went by without indulging their physical urges. They certainly weren't about to waste a perfectly good chance after dealing with the issue of his dorm-mates while they were still at Hogwarts. But that night would have to be _especially_ memorable; even he knew of the desire to have incredible sex on one's birthday. Tom himself had fantasized about it (albeit for the first time on his last birthday), but he and Rosemary hadn't even gone steady until a couple of weeks later.

All week he had been thinking of what he might try that night; he certainly wanted to pleasantly surprise her with something new. He had narrowed it to a few options and in that moment he finally chose his course of action, hoping that it would succeed as much as he thought it might.

His hands continued to roam her body and he didn't allow them to rest for very long on her most pleasurably sensitive areas, though it was clear that she wanted them to. But getting her off like he usually did was not nearly suitable for this occasion. No, not suitable at all; as such, his last gift of the day to her would be the deepest, most sensational climax she had ever experienced.

Rosemary grew increasingly impatient as he continued to tease her in various ways. Especially when she reached down to reciprocate, in obvious hopes of heating things up more quickly, and he had shooed her hand away. "Tom, it's been nearly fifteen minutes…touch me already."

"I am touching you," he smirked, as his fingers grazed one of her nipples and a tiny gasp of pleasure escaped her lips.

She recovered rapidly, narrowing her eyes at him slightly. "I mean _really_ touch me."

"Well, alright," he told her. She looked satisfied, as though he had merely given in to her wishes. But, in reality, the fact that she had asked for it had been his plan all along. "Close your eyes, then."

"Not this again," she groaned.

He smirked. "Do you want it or not?"

She promptly closed her eyes and Tom moved so his head was hovering between her legs. He looked up at her, watching her expression turn from expectant to positively erotic as his tongue traveled against her in one long stroke. Her eyes remained closed as she moaned and wrapped her legs around his head.

He could tell that she was growing closer and closer to her climax while he continued to lick and suck on her. In fact, he could feel her almost go over the edge in the way she was squeezing the sides of his head with her thighs as he pressed his tongue inside of her, tasting her dripping sweetness. The combination of it all made him ache for her in ways that were some of the strongest he had ever felt.

But he held himself back, knowing he could give her a better finish if he dragged things out a little longer. He removed his tongue and kissed the side of her thigh. "Oh, don't stop, love," she groaned.

He disobeyed her, of course, proceeding to gently kiss her anywhere but where she wanted him to.

"Please..." she begged him as she buried her hands in his hair and attempted to force his mouth down over her.

"Please what?" he teased her. His lips were so close that they brushed against her skin and she let out yet another moan.

"Please keep going. I want…" she paused as though she was contemplating whether or not to say what he knew she wanted to.

"What do you want?" he pressed.

"I want you to make me come." She said it quickly and looked rather horrified at herself. Tom, on the other hand, found it utterly delectable. The fact that he had gotten her so worked up that she would actually tell him such a thing confirmed that he was quite close to achieving his goal for the evening.

He gave in to her wishes, pleasuring her with uninhibited vigor. "Fucking hell that feels good," she moaned after only a few seconds. She was clearly too lost in pleasure to bother with another horrified expression. Her thighs began pressing against him the same way they did before, but he didn't stop this time. "Oh fuck! Tom!" she screamed as she lost herself in her climax.

From the way she had shaken and squirmed, he could already tell that it was clearly better than usual. Then, even his hopes to make it her best seemed to be validated when he glanced up at her and saw the look of compete exhaustion on her face. Tom kissed her and rolled onto his back next to her.

"We can keep going," she told him, even though her eyes were slowly beginning to close and her voice sounded fainter with each passing word. "It seems wrong to just stop here…what about you?"

He couldn't help but smile at her offer. "Let's go to sleep now. Doesn't that sound nice?" He wanted her, of course, but knew it would take away from what she had just experienced.

"Yes," she admitted quietly. Tom watched her as she cuddled up close to him. "I wish every day could be as perfect as this one. You made it truly marvelous. Thank you." She kissed his jaw. "I love you."

"I love you, Rosemary."

As she drifted to sleep in the crook of his arm, his mind wandered to everything she had told him about her visit with her grandfather. It had all been a bit unexpected, to say the least – especially the bit about her parents. Although it was clear that she didn't have the first idea what to make of it, Tom thought it might be good news. He wasn't exactly sure how it would be useful– at least not yet– but perhaps having this information about her family would give him a greater chance of manipulating his way to their approval.

Unfortunately, it seemed as though every optimistic thought that passed his mind was met with a pessimistic one of equal magnitude. He felt a growing sense of apprehension as he recalled her words from a few moments before:

"_I wish every day could be as perfect as this one."_

She could have been referring to a multitude of things, of course – the reunion with her grandfather, dinner at her favorite restaurant, and perhaps the earrings he had given her. But his mind immediately flew to the way he had dealt with his temper all day instead. Maybe she hadn't even noticed it, but it was certainly the part of the day that had taken the largest amount of effort on his end. He couldn't help but think that it had played at _least _a small part in making things as perfect as she described.

It would have been completely fine and he might have appreciated the fact that she had taken note of his efforts quite a bit more if a nagging voice hadn't appeared in the back of his mind, telling him that the exertion it took to subdue his pride and temper was nowhere near sustainable. It had been murder to listen to her describe, word for word, about how she had told Emerson that Tom was a half-blood and all the conversation that had come from it. The only way he had kept himself from getting upset was by reminding himself that he had been the one to set up her visit with her grandfather. Tom had obviously known that she would have to tell him his blood status and he thought he would be able to accept that another person knew about it if it meant making her happy.

But the truth of the matter was more complicated. Of course he was happy that she had gotten to visit with Emerson, but it almost felt as though she was throwing around his blood status like a bit of random trivia. If he could be so bothered by something he had actually known was going to happen, how could he possibly hope to control his temper when something upset him and he hadn't planned for it? When he thought about things this way his desire to change for her seemed futile and rather hopeless.

At least he knew that, for now, things were perfect in her mind.

* * *

"_I don't ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside of me will always be the person I am tonight." – F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

**So, first of all, it's been way too damn long since I've used an F. Scott Fitzgerald quote. That needed to happen.**

**I hope you enjoyed the glimpse into Rosemary's family! It was certainly a fun few paragraphs to write because I've been waiting for FOREVER to reveal it. :D It only makes me more excited to reveal all the other surprises I have planned for this story.**

**As always, I am infinitely appreciative of my reviewers. You keep me writing when I would rather do literally anything else (this week I seemed particularly distracted by other things). So a big thank you is certainly in order to A regrettable decision, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, RosiePosie15, and CharlotteBlackwood for your reviews of the last chapter!(:**

**Thank you all for reading! I will be back this week with Chapter #32, in which you will finally learn Tom's fate in the tournament!**


	32. Part I - The Intolerable Git

The Intolerable Git

_July 11, 1944_

He had never dreamt, in a million years, that he would make it this far. Scratch that – it was a lie. _Of course_ he thought he would make it this far. What surprised him, though, was the fan base he had developed along the way. Surprisingly enough, they had proven quite useful: it was much easier to irritate and throw off his opponents when they realized their fans had begun cheering for Tom instead.

All he had to do was win this match and he would make it to the quarter-finals, where the best of the best vied for the title of champion. He had seen his opponent, Ari Daalman, duel a couple of times throughout the tournament and felt like he had a somewhat decent grasp of the man's dueling style. It was certainly aggressive, which was underscored by his size; Daalman could probably pass as a half-giant if he wanted to. Fortunately, Tom had seen his strategy of intimidation bring down others in the tournament and wasn't about to let it work on him.

"Are you ready?" Rose asked him, squeezing his hands. She seemed to be quite a bit more jumpy and excited than even he was.

"Of course," he told her, allowing his arrogance to flow out in his voice.

"Good," Rose smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his body against hers. "It will be such a thrill to see you in the finals."

He smirked and glanced at his watch. "I should get going. There's only a half hour before the duel."

She nodded, giving him a passionate kiss before she edged her way out of the closet. A few seconds passed and then she knocked on the door to inform him that the surrounding area was empty.

Even so, Tom waited a bit longer for good measure. When he exited the supply closet, Rosemary had vanished and he was the only one standing in the dimly lit corridor. It was always a bit of a relief when he successfully evaded being spotted by someone from the press while stumbling out of the cleaning stockroom that had proven to be the only reasonably safe place to meet Rose in the tournament building.

He started down the hall, the roar of the crowd growing louder and louder with each step he took. Now that the fourth round was upon them, there was only one duel at a time. This meant, of course, that the number of people watching each duel had risen dramatically from what it had been in the first round. Tom didn't really mind: the more people that saw his success, the happier he was, after all.

When he reached the entrance of the dueling hall, Zhou and Dvorak were in the midst of a fierce, violent battle for a place in the quarter-finals. It was quite interesting (albeit a bit odd) to watch them, considering the fact that they were both sponsored by Beaumont and Tom had seen them speak amicably on numerous occasions over the past couple of weeks. Tom's money was on Zhou, but he rather hoped he didn't win. Zhou was the only person in the tournament that Tom was genuinely worried he might lose to and if they both made it to the quarter-finals, they would have to face each other. At least he didn't have to deal with Rookwood any longer, as he had gotten eliminated on the last day of the third round.

Surprisingly enough, though, Tom had been impressed overall with the competitors Beaumont had sponsored (including himself, obviously). Of any of the other sponsors in the tournament, he _did _have the most contestants that had advanced to the fourth round. Perhaps he wasn't as much of an idiot as he appeared to be. Or maybe it was simply dumb luck.

The crowd around him had been too distracted by the ongoing duel to notice when he had slipped just inside the doorway. It was rather nice to get out of the spotlight for a bit and blend in with the spectators. He knew Jennings would be furious that he had skipped his warm-up, but he had been much too bent on seeing whether or not Zhou would win and advance to the final rounds to care.

Tom's stomach twisted in an unsettling way as Dvorak finally froze and fell to the floor in response to the body-binding curse that Zhou had fired at him. After the second round of the competition, the duels required the paralysis of one of the competitors instead of a simple disarmament. It was certainly more challenging, but at least the spell limit was higher. At any rate, it was now decided that he would face Zhou the next day. But, he told himself, he had all night to contemplate his strategy; at that moment, he had to concentrate on defeating Daalman.

As the crowd broke into applause, he began to work his way to the sectioned off area around the platform. People began to recognize him almost immediately and he pushed through the crowd faster to escape their pleas for autographs and pictures. The flattery still went to his head, inevitably, even though he didn't wish to stop and indulge the fans.

A minute or so later, he arrived at the base of the platform, where Jennings stood with crossed arms and a fuming expression. "Where in the hell have you been?" he snapped.

Tom shrugged nonchalantly and said nothing, even though he knew it would upset his trainer even more. His eyes traveled up the stands and he spotted Rosemary. She was sitting quite a bit closer to the platform than she had all week, but it was probably safe enough. There were plenty of people to blend her in to the crowd if the cameras happened to snap a picture or two. She blew him a kiss and he rolled his eyes in response.

_She's such a sentimental_, he thought, though he was unable to resist smiling to himself. _A quite charming sentimental, at the very least. _

Jennings tilted his head, following Tom's line of sight, and shook his head slightly when he saw Rose. Tom could only catch a few words he muttered to himself in response:

"Bloody young people…"

"…clearly too much to ask to keep it in your pants for five goddamn minutes."

He may have given Jennings a snappy reply, but his thoughts were interrupted as he saw Zhou step down from the platform. "Riddle," the older wizard acknowledged him. He was all smiles, likely due to his recent win.

"Zhou." They shook hands. "Congratulations."

"Thank you. Good luck up there."

Tom nodded. "Thanks." The wish of good luck might not have meant anything to him coming from anyone else, but as much as Tom hated to admit it, he _did_ idolize Zhou to some degree. The way he dueled was truly unparalleled to anything Tom had ever seen before. It was almost an honor in itself to be given the chance to duel such a person; surely, there would be quite a bit he could learn from it. So, as much as he wanted to win the tournament, he supposed he could also accept defeat at Zhou's hands…if it came to that.

Zhou's wife kissed him and led him to their seats around the corner of the platform, right next to Beaumont and the British and French Ministers for Magic. They spoke with Zhou a few moments, probably congratulating him for making it into the finals, before Beaumont and the British Minister for Magic, Leonard Spencer-Moon, stood and headed toward Tom.

He straightened his tie and wiped his palms on his pants, as they were immediately sweaty upon realizing he was about to meet the Minister for Magic, for the first time. For a brief moment, he found himself wondering how the hell Beaumont seemed to know so many important people given the fact that he was essentially a drunken prick.

Although, surprisingly enough, Beaumont appeared to be perfectly sober that afternoon. "Tom, I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine, Mr. Spencer-Moon."

"It's an honor to meet you, Minister Spencer-Moon," he replied in the most charming voice he could manage, despite his nerves.

"The same to you, Mr. Riddle. I apologize if we're distracting you just before your duel, but I wanted to wish you luck. I hope you know that you've become quite an inspiration in Britain."

"Thank you Sir," Tom attempted a modest smile, but had no idea how it looked; they had never been his strong suit.

The announcer cleared his throat and began, "We've now arrived at our final fourth-round duel…"

"We'll leave you to it, then," Spencer-Moon told him, smiling warmly before turning away.

On an impulse, Tom said, "Sir – another moment, if you please." The Minister turned back and he continued: "I was just wondering if we could sit down for a chat when I return to London after the tournament."

"Of course. Raoul can give you the address to write my secretary and she'll set us up with a time."

"Brilliant," Tom grinned. "Thank you, Sir."

"I'll look forward to hearing from you." The Minister bowed his head toward Tom slightly before departing for his seats.

Beaumont lingered behind for a bit, looking surprised, impressed, and amused. "My, would you look at that? You _are_ capable of being a charming, respectful person."

Normally, he would have been annoyed with essentially anything Beaumont said to him, but he was in such a good mood after his conversation with the Minister that the comment had been almost entertaining. He even smirked.

"Now, go ahead and show this ogre that size doesn't matter." Raoul told him before giving him a small push in the direction of the platform. It was then that he realized Ari Daalman was standing on it and the commentator had already announced Tom's name.

Tom might have been slightly embarrassed if it hadn't been for his excellent mood. He calmly strode up the stairs and met Daalman in the center of the platform. Even he, who was quite tall, felt a tad dwarfed in comparison to the other wizard's size.

They completed the traditional bows and the rest of the ceremonious bullshit that preceded each duel of the tournament. As the commentator and the crowd counted down to the beginning of the match, Tom felt impatient, eager to claim his place in the finals.

He started off quite strong, relentlessly firing curses and hexes faster than Daalman could even respond with his own. Usually this wasn't his strategy, but he felt good enough to take a chance or two. However, after a few seconds of this, Ari recovered from Tom's move and the duel became quite a bit more balanced: Curse. Block. Curse. Block. Back and forth. It was clear, once again, that Tom was the crowd's favorite. But Ari didn't seem fazed at all by this fact, which was unfortunate as it had become a considerable part of Tom's strategy.

As the pace of the duel had slowed slightly, the press at the edge of the platform began shouting questions toward each of them. Tom _always_ ignored them, though some of the competitors couldn't resist throwing them a bone or two. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Daalman proved not to be the attention-seeking type of opponent and kept as focused on the duel as Tom did.

Tom felt as though he was finally getting the hang of Ari's aggressive dueling style, which meant he was one step closer to defeating him. Then, a voice from the press pierced through his perfect concentration:

"Mr. Riddle, who was the young lady you took to Le Jardin d' Étoiles last week?"

He froze, sending a blunt look of disbelief to the man in the front row who had asked the question. It caught him so off-guard that for a split second, he forgot all about the fact that he was in the middle of a duel.

_How the fu-_

The next thing he knew, there was searing pain in his right arm and he heard a horrified gasp from the crowd. His mind snapped back to the tournament and he noticed a mediwizard hurriedly hoisting himself onto the platform. "I'm fine!" he barked in annoyance. They always tended to overreact whenever a contestant was injured, after all.

Tom bit back the shooting pain as he tried to raise his arm and deliver his counter-spell to Daalman. But instead of looking triumphant because of the blow, Ari looked genuinely concerned and had lowered his wand.

It was then that Tom realized he hadn't actually raised his own wand, despite his efforts. In fact, as he glanced down at the bloody mess that started near his shoulder, he saw that his wand wasn't even in his hand any longer and was instead lying in a pool of blood around his feet. His blood. The room began to spin slightly. It reminded him of the end of his duel with the Durmstrang captain earlier that year and this irony was possibly just as painful (if not more so) than his gory injury.

Except for the fact that this was different. Very different. Technically, he had not yet lost. He needed to be _paralyzed _to lose, not disarmed. A wild thought crossed his mind that he could duel with his left hand instead, even though he could not remember a time that he had used his non-dominant hand to cast a spell. But, how difficult could it be, really?

He made up his mind in less than a second and was about to reach for his wand when the room began spinning much faster and everything seemed to grow darker and darker until all he could see was black.

* * *

As Tom passed out, the crowd went silent. Rosemary was in utter shock from the whole scene. She felt as though her brain had been shut off so there was no thinking, only action. The moment she realized how injured he truly was, she had begun pushing her way out of the stands the moment and finally arrived at the base of the platform while he was being carried out of the dueling hall. The press ran after the mediwizards and Tom, snapping their shameless cameras. Rosemary started after them until someone grabbed her arm and spun her around.

"Let go of me!" she screamed at Raoul. Any remaining bits of her composure had vanished at the sight of Tom's blood.

"If you try and follow, they won't let you in the hospital. They'll assume you're with the press," he told her calmly as she struggled in an attempt to escape his grip. "I'll drive you."

"Fine," she snapped.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Beaumont driving her actually meant that someone else was driving them and he would instead be seated next to her in the backseat. She hadn't remembered to put on her sound-proofing earrings that morning, but thankfully she didn't seem to need them. For once, the sponsor was completely silent. It was a glorious moment, truly; one she would have enjoyed considerably more if she wasn't entirely overwrought.

All she could think about was the way his blood had pooled around him. There was so much of it that she wondered how he could possibly have any left inside him. And then there was his arm…or what was left of it. The spell had clearly cut through the bone. A horrifying thought had crossed her mind multiple times, no matter how hard she tried to keep pushing it away: what if he lost his arm? Then there was the inconceivable: what if the Healers were too late and he had lost too much blood already?

Without warning, she burst into tears. Beaumont eyed her in alarm "There, there…" he told her, awkwardly patting her on the shoulder.

"What if-"

"Don't play that game with yourself. He's going to be fine," he told her, the awkward uneasiness rapidly vanishing from his voice.

"But-"

"Stop. We're almost there; just one block away."

As they pulled up to the curb, Rosemary quickly dried her eyes on her sleeve and jumped out of the car with Beaumont following close behind her. There were reporters scattered in front of the building, clearly waiting for any scrap of information to exploit. The hospital was quite large – about the size of St. Mungo's; panic had set in again upon seeing it and knowing that Tom was inside it somewhere, tremendously wounded.

She burst through the front door and sped up to the front counter.

"How may I help you, Miss?" the cheery receptionist asked her in French.

"Where is Tom Riddle?" Rosemary demanded.

"They just took him up to the Intensive Spell Damage Unit," she informed her. "I'm sorry, but we can't allow any visitors at this time."

"Excuse me," Raoul interjected, finally catching up to Rose. "But we will be visiting Mr. Riddle. Now."

"Sir, rules are rules…"

"Do you have any idea who I am?" Raoul smirked at her and Rosemary rolled her eyes. What was his plan, to flirt with the woman until she let them upstairs?

_Useless prat…_

The woman didn't answer so Raoul continued: "Tell me, what is the ward that houses the Intensive Spell Damage Unit called?"

"The Marceline Beaumont Ward –"

"That's the one. Named after my wife."

Rosemary gave him a sideways glance. Since when was Raoul _married_?

He took out his identification and showed it to the receptionist, pointing at his name. "See? Raoul Beaumont, that's me."

"O-Oh yes. Of course, Mr. Beaumont, my sincerest apologies. I'll de-charm the lift for you right away."

The look of incredulity was still stuck on Rose's face. That had actually worked?

"Thank you. That's absolutely lovely of you," he smiled warmly at the woman as she took out her wand and muttered the special incantation required to temporarily remove the charms on the lift.

"It's ready for you," she said. "The ISDU is on the fifth floor. He'll be in room number seven."

Raoul and Rose hurried past her into the lift and pressed the button. As the door began to close, the receptionist was still speaking: "I hope you know that we appreciate your very generous donations, Mr. Beaumont. If there is anything at all I can do for you-"

The door slid shut and Rose's curiosity of Beaumont's alleged wife had vanished, replaced with her concern for Tom once more. They were silent for the entire ride to the fifth floor and her heart pounded as a small ding informed them they had arrived. The corridor was almost entirely empty, which prompted a stomach-turning realization: if there were no Healers bustling about, that meant that they were obviously in rooms, tending to patients. Quite possibly, _new_ patients. Tom. If he had multiple Healers tending to him, that meant that things were very, very bad.

She darted down the hall and quickly arrived at room number seven. Her hand was on the doorknob when a Healer Assistant walked briskly up to them. "You can't go in just yet," he told her sternly, but kindly. "You really aren't supposed to be here at all."

"I have to see him," Rosemary insisted.

"You can't. They're just finishing up his procedure."

She swallowed, as hearing the word 'procedure' had left a bad taste her mouth. "What sort of…procedure? Is he alright?"

"He'll be fine," the Healer Assistant smiled. "They're just sort of patching him back together and all." Rosemary felt her racing pulse slow slightly upon hearing his words; it hadn't been put the most delicate way, but at least she knew Tom was alive and still had all of his appendages. "Why don't the two of you have a seat? I'll let you know as soon as they're finished."

Rose nodded hesitantly and slid into the chair right next to the door.

Beaumont sat with her for a moment, but suggested shortly after: "Why don't we go up another floor to the tearoom? It will calm you down a bit."

She looked at him as though he had proposed something as ludicrous as dropping out of Hogwarts and adopting a muggle way of life.

"Alright. We'll wait." He sighed.

Thankfully for her sanity, they didn't have to wait for long; a line of three Healers exited the room and spoke to the Healer Assistant. He walked over to them immediately after and said, "It sounds as though he's stable enough if you want to see him, but they've given him a Sleeping Draught so he might not be awake for a while. I'll be in to see him in a half hour or so to change his bandages."

Rosemary nodded and quickly let herself into the room. Given the fact that he was shirtless, she could see the full extent of how they had dressed his wound. She silently walked up to him and bent down to kiss his forehead, his cheek, and then lightly on his mouth. "I'm so glad you're alright," she whispered in his ear.

Her mind was much clearer now that she had gotten the chance to see him. As she scooted him over slightly to make a place for herself on the edge of his bed and stared into his relaxed face, thoughts that had been pushed out of her consciousness throughout the course of her panic began to trickle back in. So, apparently, Beaumont had a wife. Rose didn't really know _what_ to make of that, although there was a good possibility that his apparent wife had simply wised up and left him and he was still in denial.

Then she thought about the hospital itself. As an aspiring Healer, it would have been nice to have a look around; maybe even a tour? After all, there was no telling how long it would be until he was released. She might be spending quite a bit of time in the place.

Although she was slowly beginning to feel more in touch with reality, the entire memory of what had happened over the course of the last hour still felt so very surreal. What had happened to make him lose his concentration so profoundly? Then she remembered the reporters and their lack of any sort of human decency, taking picture after picture of his injury and following him to the hospital.

_The reporters. Shit._

"Raoul," Suddenly, she was filled with dread all over again. Spinning around to look at Beaumont, who was standing in the doorway, she said, "I can tell you right now that Tom will _not_ be happy if he sees this in the papers."

He nodded gravely. "You're right…"

A wild flurry of ideas raced through her mind. Maybe she could distract him every time they passed by the news stand? Maybe she could just _buy_ all the papers...But, as it was international news, it would mean buying an incalculable number of them.

"I'll take care of it," Beaumont told her suddenly. "There probably isn't anything I can do to stop them from publishing an article, but I should be able to ensure they leave out the pictures, at least."

"How?" she asked him, wondering if she could actually trust him with such a task.

"Does it matter?" When her look of skepticism didn't vanish, he added, "I know almost every one of the journalists reporting for the tournament. Some of them owe me favors. I'll negotiate."

Even though they were coming from Beaumont, who she was unsure she could trust with such an important task, his words were admittedly reassuring. "Thank you." She gave him a small smile before turning back to Tom, who was beginning to stir. "He's waking up!" Rosemary beamed.

"I'll wait out here and let you two have some time," Beaumont smiled.

As he left, an odd feeling washed over her and she realized that she hadn't actually been annoyed at Beaumont once that day. He had been surprisingly helpful and rather supportive, really. It was a strange, strange day.

Tom finally opened his eyes, rubbed them, and saw her sitting on the edge of his bed. "Where in the hell am I?"

"The hospital…do you remember the duel from earlier today? Your arm-"

He looked down at it, first with a confused look and then a hateful one.

"What about the duel?" he demanded, turning his head so his eyes were now glaring into her own.

"I-I don't know," she stuttered. She wasn't sure what to tell him, as it hadn't been made that clear whether or not Daalman had automatically won or if they needed to have a rematch and duel until someone was actually paralyzed.

He sighed in clear frustration with her lack of information. "Well," he snapped. "Why are _you_ here?"

It certainly hadn't been the reaction she had expected from him. She told herself not to get offended; after all, she probably should have known that he would be this upset about everything that had happened. "I'm here because I wanted to make sure you were okay," she said gently.

Rosemary reached up to stroke his chest, but his left hand caught her wrist before she even made contact with his skin.

"Is that what you think of me?" he growled. "Do you think I'm that weak? That I can't even handle a tiny scratch?"

"No, Tom, that's not at all what I said…And you can hardly call what happened to you a 'tiny scratch'. The curse cut half-way through your arm."

Suddenly he laughed, even though she could still see the anger burning in his eyes. He was beginning to startle her quite a bit. "What happened to me?" He abruptly stopped laughing. "I'll tell you what happened to me: _you_."

"What are you talking about?"

"Beaumont _warned _me not to bring you along…He knew you'd be a distraction. Well, it looks as though his prediction was correct. That reporter saw us at the restaurant, asked me who you were during the duel. That's all it takes, Rosemary, is a split second of distraction and it's all over."

It stung to hear him say her name this way, basically spitting it out of his mouth. "If I hadn't invited you along, this never would have happened."

She stared at him blankly. She wanted to scream at him because he deserved it, but couldn't find the energy. The only thing she felt was emptiness.

Rosemary looked away from his glaring eyes and stood to leave, walking out of the room without another glance over her shoulder. It was then that she remembered Beaumont had been sitting outside of the open door the entire time. The look of sympathy on his face validated her fear that he had heard everything. Wordlessly he stood, walking past her into the room she had just left and closing the door behind him.

Even with the door closed, Rosemary could hear their muffled exchange:

"Excellent. The person I was just dying to see next," Tom said snidely.

"What in fucking Merlin's name is wrong with you?!" Beaumont bellowed. "Do you have any clue how worried about you she was, you sorry prick?"

Rosemary's eyes widened and she looked around the hall to make sure no one else was listening. This was certainly the first time she had heard Raoul be anything less than congenial.

"Well, she shouldn't-"

"Shut up. Shut your fucking mouth right now. How _dare_ you blame it on her…It's on _you_. That's it. Period." His voiced lowered in volume slightly, but he sounded no less angry. "If you had even a shred of maturity you'd accept that you made a mistake and move on. But you're acting like a child. I mean, you're the youngest damn person in this competition and you _still_ made it to the fourth-round. That's unheard of. Don't you understand that?! Why in the hell isn't that enough for you? You don't understand the value of any of it: having Miss Horton's support; even just _being _here. While we're on the topic, it's not as though she isn't risking anything to be here with you; you know that just as well as I do. She loves you, Tom, although I don't have the faintest clue why. I'm quickly beginning to think you're too thick to appreciate it."

There was a long silence before Tom finally spoke. "I didn't want her to see me like this." His calm statement shocked her entirely. He _never_ spoke about his feelings. And to Beaumont? _And_ he wasn't instantly defensive from the way Raoul had put him in his place?

"Well, there was absolutely no reason to be such a bastard about it. And that certainly doesn't make everything you said okay."

"I know," Tom sighed. "I just…I get so angry sometimes."

At this point she was pressing her ear to the door, stunned at every word she was hearing.

"Welcome to life, Mr. Riddle; you don't always get what you want. You have to accept it, take it like a man, and quit being so goddamn selfish."

Rose kept expecting him to get defensive, but it never happened. Perhaps he had been so taken aback at Beaumont's outburst that his mind had shifted in a way it normally didn't.

"I didn't just want to win for _me_. It was for us…I had to find a way to make her parents approve of us and I thought that all of this would be the way I did it."

Raoul snorted. "I'm sure they'll be plenty impressed, just like the rest of Britain. You didn't have to win the whole damn thing to do that, you know."

"Well even if I had, it still wouldn't have been enough. There are other…considerations now," he said bitterly, and she knew he was referring to her father's grudge. "Anyway, in case things don't work out with her parents, I need to show her that I can…provide."

"What do you mean; financially?"

Tom was silent in response and Beaumont apparently took this as affirmation. "Look, Tom, I know that you haven't had the easiest time of it, growing up all on your own with nothing to fall back on. I was never planning on taking my cut of your winnings. I could help out a little more, you know-"

"Absolutely not," Tom snapped. "And you'll take your cut."

"I thought not, but it was worth a try," Beaumont chuckled. He was quiet for a moment before asking, "You really do love her, don't you?"

"Of course."

"Good. Then fix this; you won't forgive yourself if you don't. Nothing is worse than losing someone who loves you like she does."

There was a lull in the conversation.

Finally, Tom spoke: "So I assume that I'm officially eliminated from the tournament?"

"Unless you can make a miraculous, full recovery over the next fifteen hours, yes."

"I don't necessarily _need_ to use my right hand to duel. There's always my left…"

She could hear Beaumont's smirk in his voice. "Don't even think of it, you intolerable git."

* * *

"_I always find it more difficult to say the things I mean than the things I don't." – W. Somerset Maugham_

* * *

**First off, a big thanks to A regrettable decision, RosiePosie15, and CharlotteBlackwood for reviewing the last chapter. :D**

**Sorry if this update felt a little too long (it was about 1K words longer than usual), but there was a lot to fit into it! I'm dying to hear what you think of everything that happened: Tom's elimination from the tournament, the way he snapped at Rosemary and Beaumont totally losing it, etc. so if you would leave a review below that would be AWESOME!(:**

**Thank you all for reading!**


	33. Part I - MAGI

MAGI

_July 14, 1944_

It was nearly noon when Rosemary finally forced herself out of bed. Tom had left early in the morning to attend the final duel of the tournament, between Zhou and Bartel. The actual duel didn't take place until much later in the day, but Zhou had invited him along to observe his morning training session and Tom wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to learn the training secrets of other contestants.

Everyone at the tournament– especially the others that Beaumont sponsored– had clearly developed such a fondness of him. It was rather sweet, really, and it was also quite nice to see him surrounded by people he actually respected (whether or not he would admit such a thing). She was sad for him at the same time, knowing that he would lose such comradery when the tournament came to an end. The spark that had been in his eyes over the last couple of weeks would surely dim.

So, seeing that it was the last day of the actual tournament, she had decided to skip the championship duel and visit with her grandfather instead. It wasn't as though they could have spent the day there together anyway; even though he was out of the competition, he was still treated as a celebrity. She knew that Tom would enjoy the duel significantly more if he didn't have to worry about her accidentally getting captured in a photograph.

She had just gotten dressed and was nearly ready to leave for Emerson's when she heard a knock at the front door of their flat.

"Good afternoon, Miss Horton."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Beaumont," she greeted him in return.

"Is Tom around? I was wondering if he would be interested in going to lunch before seeing the match today…there are a few things I have to discuss with him."

"He left early this morning to attend Zhou's training session," she explained. She would have been surprised that Beaumont himself wasn't already there, given the fact that he was Zhou's sponsor and it was something any of the other sponsors would have done, but she had realized over the course of the tournament that Beaumont really wasn't like the rest of them. Instead of wringing his hands nervously and getting in the way at trainings and the duels, he actually allowed the trainers to do their jobs.

It was rather funny that she had failed to notice these things before Tom was sent to the hospital. But ever since, she began to see Beaumont in a new light; he certainly wasn't as bad as she had thought and it made her feel guilty to recall how strongly she initially disliked him.

"I see." He smiled at her. "Well, sorry to bother you."

She wasn't sure what came over her, but she found herself saying, "Would you like to come in for a bit? I just brewed a bit of tea."

Perhaps it had been her subconscious speaking. She hadn't exactly thanked him for handling the press in the aftermath of Tom's last duel. As promised, he had kept all the pictures of Tom's injury from surfacing. There had been the unfortunate article describing his defeat, of course– which Tom had furiously discovered the day after– but she was still extremely thankful for Beaumont's help.

She owed him for other things, too: for bringing Tom to his senses and defending her to a large degree. But it was unlikely that they would ever speak of it again; she certainly didn't think she could, in fear of making things excruciatingly uncomfortable.

"Sure," he said, looking rather surprised at her offer.

Rosemary stood to the side and let him into the flat, gesturing for him to have a seat on the couch. After retreating to their kitchenette for a couple of minutes to prepare their tea, she settled into the chair across from him.

"Planning to attend the duel later?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I don't believe so. I enjoy seeing Tom duel, of course, but now that he's out of the competition, I admittedly don't have much of an interest. To be honest, I've grown a bit tired of sitting in the stands by myself."

"Well, he certainly appreciates the fact that you've been here to support him."

There was a long, awkward pause during which Rosemary considered the validity of his statement. Even though Tom had apologized for his behavior and they had smoothed things over with her considerably, there was a small, obstinate part of her that couldn't help but wonder if he actually did regret bringing her along to Paris.

She pushed the thoughts from her mind, as she knew they would only continue to upset her the more she dwelled on them. "I've been meaning to thank you for handling the press," she told him. "Tom hasn't the faintest clue…which is probably for the best."

"It was nothing," he waved his hand nonchalantly. "I'm happy to help."

They sipped their tea in painful silence and she began to regret inviting him in. Clearly, they had essentially nothing to say to each other.

"I hope you know he does recognize how lucky he is to have you," Raoul said, apparently from nowhere. Less than a week ago, she might have thought he was simply attempting to flirt with her, but things were so very different now. In a way, his acknowledgment of the exchange between Rose and Tom was almost more violating than flirting would have been. She wasn't comfortable with the fact that someone had witnessed a less than perfect moment in her relationship with Tom. Somehow, it made the situation feel more real; she couldn't simply ignore it or block it from her own mind if she knew that someone else had seen (or heard) it too. She wanted him to drop it, but he continued on: "He cares about you a great deal…even if he's rather terrible at showing it."

"He shows it in many ways," she told him curtly, cursing the sudden defensiveness that had appeared in her voice.

"That's good to hear," he replied, though the overly gentle tone he said it in made her think that he didn't believe her. "I apologize for bringing it up; I know it's none of my business. It's just rather painful to watch someone begin to make the same mistakes that I did. If I could do it all over again –" his voice trailed off into a sigh and he set down his tea.

She had never seen such a disturbing look of despair and hopelessness on a man's face before. It was brief, but significant. Rosemary had no idea about the situation between him and his wife or what he had done, but the nearly tangible remorse that he held around him in that moment compelled her to say something in an attempt at reassurance: "Perhaps you _can_ do it all over again...if you show her you're persistent and can fix whatever the issue was –"

Raoul smiled sadly. "I dream of that possibility every day, but it will never be…She's…well, she's gone. Forever."

Rosemary's eyes widened when she realized what exactly he meant. "I'm so sorry to hear that…"

"She was such a spectacular woman, truly. Very supportive, loving…anything a man could really ask for. I hate that I was never there for her like she was for me; I always worked too much. I knew it, too, but it didn't stop me. There isn't a moment that goes by that I don't think about how I took them for granted all those years."

"Them?"

"We had a son, too. Mathias."

_Had_. Hearing the word gave her an awful feeling, but she was unable to stop herself from asking, "What happened?" Rose cursed herself immediately for her curiosity; not only was it rude to pry, it was also _obviously _a sensitive subject.

Somewhat miraculously, though, Beaumont didn't seem to be put off. "Have you ever heard of MagicAll?"

"Magical?" A look of confusion spread across her face.

"MagicAll Goods, Incorporated…Or MAGI, as it's more commonly referred to," he clarified.

She shook her head.

"Well, you should have. First off, they're based in Britain. Second, they manufacture _hundreds _of magical items. Some commonly used, others not so much: cauldrons, Spellotape, Remembralls, regulation Quidditch balls…you name it: they probably make it. Two of the very few items they are _not_ currently sanctioned to manufacture are, in fact, wands and broomsticks. As you probably know, there has always been concern about producing magical items as powerful as those in large quantities. A good thing, too, as they probably would have bought out your father's company already if they were able to."

She really _didn't _know about any of this, actually; all she really knew about Comet were the details of its day-to-day operations.

Beaumont continued: "I worked at MagicAll years ago as the Head of Regulatory Affairs and Product Safety. It was my job to ensure that each product was free of violations in both manufacturing and distribution. Then there was the safety piece, which required quite a bit of quality control. It was quite a demanding job, as you can probably imagine."

She nodded. "Sounds like it."

"I worked incredibly long hours in hopes of moving higher in the company, which created a considerable amount of strain at home, of course. I even commuted every morning from Paris for a while, until Marcy finally gave in and agreed to move to London. Things did begin to get better for us; I had a lot more time to spend with them since I was no longer flying home every evening. But she missed her family, of course. So one Friday, after picking up Mathias from nursery school, they left for Paris to visit them. I can't even remember the excuse I gave her to stay behind…something about being too busy at work, I'm sure. In reality, I just didn't want to spend the weekend with my in-laws. At any rate, they arrived without a problem. Marcy was in the sitting room visiting with her parents while Mathias was in the play room. As my mother-in-law told it, Marcy went up to check on him and was scolding him for stealing some sort of toy from the nursery school. She demanded that he give it to her so she could return it when they came back to London and he stubbornly refused. Apparently, she was attempting to grab it from his hands when…" He paused and took a deep breath.

Dread washed over her, which was amplified when she realized he was shaking slightly. Rose was about to tell him that he didn't have to continue when he seemed to compose himself once more and said, "Well, a few seconds later they were being rushed to the hospital…the same one Tom was treated in, actually."

She nodded slowly, remembering the ward that was named for his wife.

"They tried to save her…The Healers put in an excellent effort, really excellent. But by the time I even got word of what had happened, it was too late."

Rosemary was choking back tears by the time he finished speaking. She had no idea what to do or say to comfort him, though she wished she did. 'I'm sorry for your losses' seemed like such an inadequate response. She stood and fetched the tea kettle from the kitchenette in attempt to buy herself some time to think about a better reply. When she was about to refill his tea, he waved away the kettle with his hand.

"Perhaps something stronger, then?" she asked him.

He looked at her for a few long moments before looking down at the floor with a silent nod.

Rosemary retrieved the bottle of scotch from Tom's trunk along with two glasses from the kitchen and joined Raoul once more in the living room. He downed the liquor in one swift motion while she took a small sip.

"That isn't even the worst of it," he said suddenly, pouring himself another glass. "This 'toy' that my son had gotten from nursery school…it was a MagicAll product. It was a wand with certain spell limitations made specifically for children to give them a sort of head start with magic before attending a wizarding school such as Hogwarts. You see, although the company was not sanctioned to produce the wands themselves, they were in the process of gaining permission to alter a wand's capabilities. There were plenty of concerns with the idea, of course. First off, as you know, children aren't supposed to practice magic outside of a wizarding school at all. The other, much more important issue was safety…the prototype that was created was rather unpredictable if the child using it was experiencing particular emotions. I refused to sign off on it, as a result. I carried on my day-to-day, thinking they had killed the project, considering the fact that they technically needed my approval to continue. Without my knowledge, they had even gone so far as to select a nursery school to test them in…Precisely the same nursery school that my son was enrolled in, believe it or not." He finished his second drink and looked down at the empty glass in his hands. "I've gone through the whole thing so many times in my head, wondering if it was planned…if they, in some sort of twisted, sick revenge because of my refusal to sign off on the project, _meant_ to choose the same one he had begun attending not even a week earlier. To be honest, I still don't know..."

At this point, there was little Rose could do to keep herself from crying about such a tragic story. A few tears escaped, but thankfully, Raoul was still looking down at his hands so he didn't notice when she reached up to wipe them away.

"Anyway, after arriving in Paris to find that my wife and son had already passed and realizing what exactly had happened, I returned to MagicAll in a rage, threatening to expose everything they had done. Their response was simple, concise; an ultimatum. If I followed through with my attempt to ruin them, they would essentially frame me for it and ship me off to Azkaban faster than you could say 'Merlin's beard'. Or, I could accept their offer to pay me off. I chose the money, obviously, as it was clearly preferable to rotting away in prison. There was no doubt in my mind that they could successfully frame me for it; they are probably the most powerful company in the wizarding world, after all. But I couldn't simply allow them to get away with it, either. When I accepted the money, I vowed to put every knut toward destroying MagicAll," he said bitterly. "Before I could even come up with a plan, I admittedly became a bit of an alcoholic…"

Rosemary eyed his empty glass and the bottle of scotch sitting next to it warily.

"I'm past it now," he said with a trace of amusement due to the look on her face, though she wasn't entirely convinced of the veracity of this statement given the sheer number of times she had seen him drunk over the course of the competition. "But what it did allow me to realize was, when you're drunk, people tend to become much more…trusting. I realized that I was exceptionally gifted in getting people, even very important people, to tell me things.

"That was ten years ago, but I'm getting closer every single day. I came back to France to give them the impression I was distancing myself and taking their ultimatum seriously. But all this time, I've been making connections: connections that will provide me with useful information. I donated heavily into hospitals in France and Britain so I can keep close tabs on patients admitted because of mishaps with MagicAll products; I've bought pubs frequented by important businessmen; I've become a sponsor in the Continental Wizarding Dueling Tournament, an event that is exceptionally prestigious just to attend. I've gotten to know all sorts of people and have learned all sorts of secrets, but I won't be finished until I accumulate enough information to take down every single top executive at MagicAll. This person you see on an everyday basis, the drunken fool you can stand –," Rosemary looked away from his face guiltily, "- is merely a likeable character. Do you understand?"

She nodded. If she hadn't known what to say before, now she _certainly _hadn't the first clue what to say. "Why did you tell me all of this?" she asked him finally, as she was fairly confident that this wasn't the sort of thing he told people on a daily basis.

"No one has really asked before…well, at least in regard to my late family. Maybe someone would have asked if they knew, but I can't describe the majority of the people I surround myself with as genuine, close friends. Most people haven't the first clue that I was ever married. As for MagicAll…I don't know. I don't know why I told you all of that. I've never actually told _anyone_." He was quiet for a long time before saying thoughtfully, "It could be that there's something about you that reminds me of her…Marcy. I think it's your compassion; I've seen it in the way you act with Tom. That's why I find it quite painful to see him act so selfishly at times." Beaumont suddenly looked at his watch. "I should be going…I do have a championship duel to attend, after all."

Rosemary stood to show him out. As they walked to the front door he said, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention anything I've told you to Tom…or anyone else for that matter."

"Of course." She offered him a small smile.

He returned it with one of his own, but it lacked its usual energy. She realized she wasn't used to seeing his face without a seemingly effortless grin plastered to it. "Thank you." He stepped past her into the hall and bowed his head slightly toward her before departing down the corridor.

After Beaumont left, she didn't really know what to do with herself. She had planned to see her grandfather, but all she wanted was to sit in bed drinking gin and processing everything she had learned in that single encounter. Seeing her grandfather could wait until the next day, she decided.

Nobody had ever told her something as heavy as Beaumont just had. In a way, she was glad he did. It felt good to know that someone would trust her with something so incredibly important. Then again, learning all this about him made her feel even guiltier than she already did for the way she had genuinely looked down on him and essentially hated him up until very recently. She couldn't help but wonder who else she had judged over the course of her life that she had actually been entirely wrong about.

Rosemary was still half drunk and lying in bed when Tom returned home that evening.

"Are you feeling ill?" he asked as he climbed in to bed next to her. His touch felt more gentle than usual, as it had since he had apologized to her for his behavior at the hospital. It was clear that he was still treading lightly around her.

"I'm fine," she told him, forcing herself to sit up. "How was the match? Who won?"

"Zhou. It was an excellent match."

His eyes seemed to have suddenly regained some of the brightness they had lost after his elimination from the tournament. Was the duel really _that_ excellent, or was there something else?

Her question was answered shortly after the thought. "I have good news," he told her.

"Oh?"

"Raoul renewed my contract for next year. He's saying I'll have a decent shot at the title next year if I begin training this fall like competitors normally do."

"That's wonderful, Tom!" she kissed his cheek. It was certainly good news, but not altogether surprising. If Raoul hadn't sponsored him again, someone else surely would have.

"That's not all," he told her as he stood to undress. She stood to help him take his shirt off seeing that his arm was still in a sling, but sat back down when she remembered how annoyed he had gotten when she tried to do the same thing the night before. "He wants my help in determining the others that he's renewing a sponsorship with or newly sponsoring. Apparently I have quite an eye for it."

Later that night, as he drifted off to sleep at her side, her mind began to wander once more. It was clear, now, that Beaumont was doing his best to keep Tom around. Perhaps Tom reminded him of his son…or maybe a younger version of himself. Maybe both.

* * *

"_You can love someone so much, but you can never love people as much as you can miss them." – John Green_

* * *

**Ahh I wanted to post earlier, but we were super busy this weekend. Sorry for the wait!**

**But, yay! I finally got to give some insight into Beaumont's backstory! :D Once again, I had planned to make this chapter half-Rose, half-Tom's POV, but it sort of got away from me while going into detail with Raoul's story. Next chapter will be all Tom and for quite a few chapters, it will continue to switch back and forth like this (probably until around Chapter 40)**

**Thanks a ton to A regrettable decision, CharlotteBlackwood, RosiePosie15, Lucy Greenhill, Tam, and Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack for your reviews. This chapter may have taken even longer to complete without them!(:**

**I'm also super thankful to all of you that have followed/favorited my story! We're very quickly approaching 200 follows, which I would be THRILLED to see. **

**Signing off for now! Let me know what you think of Mr. Beaumont's confessions and any other thoughts about how the rest of the story is going.(:**


	34. Part I - Loose End

**So I'm changing things up a bit this time! This chapter has the feel of two different parts, so I put the quote between the two of them instead of at the end. It just fit a lot better there. You'll see(;**

* * *

Loose End

_July 15, 1944_

She rolled over in bed and when she noticed he was still awake, she propped her head on her hand. "What are you thinking about?" she asked him.

"Things," he said nonchalantly, though the thoughts in his head were actually quite serious in nature. He had been doing a lot of thinking that night, really. The closing ceremony earlier that day had marked the end of the tournament, which meant that he was finally without a constant distraction. But it also meant leaving Paris, trying to find a flat in London, and securing a job for the remainder of the summer; back to reality. It wasn't just those things, though; there were quite a few things that he hadn't exactly gotten the chance to mull over in the past couple of weeks.

"What things?" she pressed.

He could have told her that he didn't really want to talk about it, but he also didn't want to spoil the fact that things had finally gotten back to normal between them after the way he acted to her on his first day in the hospital. "I'm just thinking about the future, I suppose…what I'd like to do after Hogwarts; things of that nature."

"I see." she gave him an intrigued look. "Well what do you have in mind?"

He didn't really want to admit to her that he wasn't sure. The only thing he _was _sure about was his desire to have her at his side through it all. Obviously, he'd be competing in the tournament again, but he couldn't really see himself becoming a lifelong competitor like some of the lot. Politics were rather interesting to him, but securing a decent Ministry job right out of Hogwarts was exceptionally challenging. Perhaps the biggest barrier to figuring out what he wanted to do with his life was the fact that he was truly dreading leaving Hogwarts behind. In a way, the school had become his home. He had never really belonged anywhere else, not even the tournament per se. Even given his impressive success, he knew that some of the other competitors would always look down on him for his young age.

And so a dull ache had begun to come about whenever he thought about leaving Hogwarts at the end of his seventh year. A part of him wished he could stay. But then again, maybe he could. He had, after all, contemplated the possibility of securing a professorship and he _would_ be a shoe-in for teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts, given his natural aptitude in the subject. Perhaps he could even stick around and get promoted to headmaster whenever Dippet finally croaked (or retired). Then he could change anything he wanted about the school…maybe even place a ban on the admission of mudblood students.

"I wouldn't mind teaching," he told her.

She smiled. "You're an excellent teacher, Tom…it's quite nice, really, to see you working with everyone in Dueling Club."

"You think so?" he asked, not that he doubted her words. It was just nice to hear her compliments.

Rosemary nodded and he allowed himself to bask in her praise a little while longer before asking, "Are you still interested in becoming a Healer?"

She paused for a few moments and her face became unreadable. "I'm certainly still _interested_," she told him quietly. "I'm just not sure how realistic it is."

"Why not?"

"My parents are going to have a hard enough time accepting that we're together…I'm almost positive that the idea of me _working_ will only make things exponentially worse."

Right. He had forgotten about that, given the fact that he never had to deal with such concerns himself. But for Rose, things were different; the demanding coursework required to become a Healer wasn't her only setback. After all, ladies (especially those of her status) were not supposed to be subjected to the drudgery of a real job.

"Well, perhaps that gives you all the more reason to pursue it," he told her.

"How do you mean?"

"If your parents are already disapproving of you for one thing, does it really make much of a difference if you add another? It's a choice between making them or yourself happy, really."

A small part of him wished he could take back his words as soon as he said them. He knew that if she actually did choose to pursue her own career, it would unquestionably make things with her parents more difficult. But, then again, none of it would be worth it if she wasn't truly happy in the end.

"That's true, I suppose," she said thoughtfully as she rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. "It doesn't bother you that I want to work?"

"Of course not." He meant it, too. Tom had told her months ago that it would be a waste of her natural intelligence if she was confined to life of a typical pure-blood wife; his thoughts on the matter had not deviated in the slightest since. It was rather depressing to think of her sitting around an enormous, empty house with nothing to do.

"I fall more in love with you all the time." She smiled and then kissed him deeply.

The combination of her words and the kiss consumed him. He was reminded all over again that to him, she was magnetic: his sweet escape from anything unpleasant. She was like a drug, but more calming than the first drag of a cigarette and more exquisite than the buzz from a glass of scotch.

Tom kissed her just as passionately in return and allowed his tongue to play with hers. He probably could have kissed her for hours, but eventually she pulled away.

"I know we haven't really spoken about this directly, but I just want you to know that I still want to be with you even if my parents refuse to give their approval." She spoke firmly, as though she thought he would try and argue with her about it. He didn't, of course; they were certainly on the same page with the matter. "I'm not saying you won't think of something…but, I wanted to tell you, just in case," she continued. "I can't stand the thought of being without you, Tom."

Admittedly, he experienced a considerable amount of pleasure from hearing her say it. He liked the idea that she relied on him; it made him feel secure in a way he never had before. She was the only thing in his life he was certain he wouldn't just get bored of. Given the fact that he had never genuinely cared about anyone before her, he didn't really have the first clue how he would go about coping with losing her if that were to happen. It was something he wanted to avoid at any and all cost, so the more she felt like she needed him, the better.

Tom must have been taking too long to respond because she asked in an anxious voice, "Was I wrong to assume you feel the same way about things?"

"No. I do feel the same," he told her confidently.

She smiled and then sighed, apparently from relief. "All we have to do is placate them until we're through at Hogwarts…But, as much as I'm looking forward to graduating, I'm also quite excited for this year. We'll be able to do just about anything we like as Head Boy and Girl. Plus, we won't have roommates to speak of…and there won't be a charm in place to keep you out of my room…" A seductive look flashed across her face and then she grinned at him. "This is going to be our year."

She didn't need to tell him that; he was just as excited, if not more so, for the year ahead of them. There were quite a few changes he was looking forward to making at the school and the many perks of Rosemary in the Head Girl position made it all the better. He smirked at her. "Yes; it will be."

As they fell asleep with their bodies pressed closely together, he realized that he was more relaxed that he had felt in a long time. He had forgotten just how nice it was to talk to her about things; she seemed always to know just what to say to him, even if his temper occasionally got in the way of him realizing it. For one sublime moment, he was at complete peace, mostly because she had voiced her resolute desire to be with him no matter what happened with her parents. He had sort of assumed it, of course, but it was a bit of a relief to know for sure.

It wasn't just that it was one less thing to stress over, though. Knowing such a thing made him feel as though he didn't really have to worry about _anything_. As long as they were together, things would work out; they could figure things out together. For once in his life, he might just allow himself to rely on someone else. Well, maybe. He knew that sort of thing could become rather risky. Even so, he was optimistic, which felt rather strange, really. But there was something else that she had inspired within him. It was deeper, and felt more permanent than optimism but he couldn't quite place it...

Hope?

* * *

"_I love how she makes me feel: like anything is possible, or like life is worth it." – Tom Hansen_

* * *

It was much harder to say goodbye to her after their conversation the previous night, even though he kept telling himself he would see her in a week's (or two, maximum) time. There was a small part of him that was anxious she would change her mind about what she had told him if she went home and spent time with her family. Maybe she would decide she couldn't just leave them behind, even if it were for him.

Still, even with his concerns, it was unrealistic to keep her with him. He hadn't even found a place to rent, yet. Plus, her parents were expecting her home anyway.

"Thank you so much for having me along," she told him. "It was such an excellent time to see you compete…you did so well."

_Not as well as I should have_, he thought bitterly, but was at least able to keep the words from slipping through his lips.

"I'm sorry I was a distraction." It was clear that she had meant it as a lighthearted joke, but her voice was lightly defined with sadness and guilt. He had known that, though she had forgiven him for the way he had spoken to her earlier that week, she was still shaken up about it to some degree. All he could do was attempt to make it up to her during the rest of the summer.

So, even though it _was _somewhat true, he couldn't just allow her to leave if she were still thinking that. "I'm glad you came along, Rosemary. Truly."

It was remarkable to see how quickly she could brighten from such a simple comment. She smiled and removed the cap from her vial of Calming Draught. He could smell the airy, lavender fumes as she drank it. Half the bottle was finished when she took it from her lips, recapped it, and stored it away. "Well, I hope I'll hear from you sooner rather than later." Her smile was more relaxed than usual: a clear sign that the potion was taking its effect. "I'm sorry we have to include Marcus, but I think that's the safest way to send post to each other…"

"It's fine," he assured her. "He won't ask any questions." It was true – Markus and Adam did just about anything he asked them to without question. Besides, there was a good chance he had already assumed what was going on anyway, given that he knew how traditional Rosemary's parents were and the fact that Tom was a half-blood. Markus had never been the brightest, but Tom thought he could at _least_ put two and two together. Although, it would have been preferable if he couldn't.

She kissed him and he watched as she mounted her broom and flew off into the distance. He wished that he had been able to fly back with her, as the thought of her flying alone worried him quite a bit, but he promised Raoul that they would meet up later that night. At LaPointe's, actually, which he apparently owned. It certainly explained how he knew Rosemary's grandfather.

He walked along the streets for a while to kill time. Even though the tournament had officially ended, there were plenty of reporters that managed to find him every time he ventured out for more than fifteen minutes. He had been quite fond of his newfound fame, at least at first; now, it was getting rather old.

At least he had gotten better at both ignoring and evading them. Dusk had fallen and he was walking through an alleyway on his way to LaPointe's, finally alone – or so he thought.

"Mr. Riddle!" he heard a voice call from behind him. He continued walking, pretending that he hadn't heard them at all, until: "Mr. Riddle, is it true that your steady is Rosemary Horton, of the same Hortons that founded Comet Trading Company?"

He stopped abruptly and turned around slowly to see a young man, probably in his mid-twenties, hurrying through the alley toward him. He wore large, clunky black glasses and his pad of paper and self-writing quill floated behind him. Tom knew instantly – it was _him_. This was the person who had asked him the fateful question that had cost him his place in the finals.

His rage was building inside of him as he drew his wand, aimed it just to the left of the man's head, and said calmly, "_Incendio._"

Both the quill and pad of paper immediately burst into flames and the reporter looked at him, startled. "It was just a bloody question, mate –"

"And just where did you hear such information?" Tom asked, striding closer to the man and giving him his most intimidating glare.

"I _saw_ it...and by lucky chance, really. I happened to be eating at Le Jardin d' Étoiles the same night you two were there. I met Rosemary, once, when I was covering the annual gala her parents host for Comet. That's how I recognized her. You know, it seems as though you _really_ want this to be kept quiet…why is that?"

If he had learned one thing during the tournament, it was that reporters simply did not know when to quit. Tom stood there, fuming, realizing that it wasn't enough just to destroy the evidence that was written on his pad of paper. Obviously, that wasn't quite enough to make him forget completely.

Tom muttered a hex, which threw the reporter against the wall of the alley. His glasses flew from his face and he attempted to find them while reaching for his wand at the same time.

"_Expelliarmus._" Tom couldn't help but smirk as he watched the wand glide through the air and land about fifteen feet from them. He allowed a few seconds to pass, just enough time for the reporter to put his glasses back on, before he calmly uttered, "_Crucio_."

Tom watched the man writhe and yelp in pain and while it did make him feel better for the moment, he realized in frustration that this wasn't really a solution. Even if he swore he would never breathe a word of what he saw to anyone, Tom knew he couldn't just trust him. Plus, he realized he had already taken things too far. Now that he used the Cruciatus Curse, he also had to think about the fact that the reporter might well turn him in.

He released the curse and the man began sputtering words immediately, as Tom had predicted. "I won't tell a soul that you were out with her, I promise. I can respect the fact that you want your personal life kept private," he said, looking up at him with desperate, pleading eyes. How could someone so weak and pitiful cost him something as significant as the tournament? It was a shame, really.

"Who else have you told?" Tom asked coolly.

"N-no one. It's in my best interest to keep my stories to myself until I get the chance to publish them."

Tom nodded; he believed him, it was logical.

The reporter was still attempting to reassure him of his silence on the matter, when Tom realized he had two choices. The first would be attempting to Obliviate the memories from the man's mind, but there were quite a few things that could go wrong with it. There was always a chance that he would forget too little or– possibly worse– too much. If he forgot too much to the extent that it was noticeable to himself or others, he would be sent to a hospital and undergo a memory recovery procedure. And if he forgot too little, there was a chance that he would still remember it all at some point. One had to be extremely skilled at Obliviation in order to erase just the right memories and to do it permanently. As good as wizard as Tom was, he wasn't sure he could trust himself to complete it perfectly and it was certainly too risky to leave any potential loose ends. If what the reporter had seen got out, Basil would most definitely be furious, eliminating any possibility of their approval. He might even be angry enough to keep Rosemary from Hogwarts or to marry her off to somebody else without her will, while he still could. Tom nearly shuddered from the thought; no, that could not happen. Especially when he thought about how perfect things between them had become in the past day.

Which left only one option.

Tom raised his wand once more, pointing it to the space between the reporter's eyes. He barely recognized the deadly composure that was his own voice as he spoke the words, "_Avada Kedavra._"

* * *

Not even twenty minutes later, Tom was sitting at LaPointe's, waiting for Raoul as though nothing had happened at all. He skipped his scotch without feeling the least bit anxious. No one had seen him – he had been sure of that. Guilt was eluding him as well, but why shouldn't it be? He had done what he needed to do, to protect himself as well as Rosemary.

Beaumont clapped him on the back when he arrived, pulling up a seat next to him at the bar. "I'll take one of the usual, Collette," he told the bartender. While she made his drink, he asked, "Rosemary left today, didn't she?"

"Yes," he said.

"Well, I hope things work out for the rest of the summer," Beaumont told him. Tom normally would have been annoyed with the fact that Raoul knew of their situation (at least to some degree) and had brought it up, but lately, he found it a tad more difficult to be annoyed with him. After all, he had offered Tom the positions of both a competitor and a sponsor consultant for the next year's tournament. "I'm sure it will be just fine."

"I think so too," Tom said. He realized all over again how relieved he was, knowing that he no longer had to worry about the pesky reporter surfacing later to ruin things. Clearly, he had made the right call. "I'm feeling rather…optimistic, at the moment."

Beaumont looked rather surprised at his response and Tom couldn't exactly blame him; such sentiments were quite outside the realm of his ordinary disposition. The bartender set Raoul's drink in front of him and a smile slowly spread across his face when he realized Tom wasn't just being his usual, sarcastic self. "Well…here's to optimism, then!"

* * *

**So this marks Tom's first _'Avada Kedavra'_ that we see in this fic. Awwww, how nice. :D**

**A big thanks to Lucy Greenhill, A regrettable decision, RosiePosie15, CharlotteBlackwood, and MissCarbon for your reviews!(: They never fail to make my day.**

**I have an important and related announcement! I really want to say thank you to those of you that have been so supportive via reviews, so at the end of Part I (chapter 50 - which is approaching unbelievably fast), I will be holding a drawing for a couple of super awesome prizes. There will be two winners drawn randomly and entry is simple - if you've reviewed five chapters or more, you're already in the running! I'll announce what exactly the prizes are in one of these next few chapters. :D If you don't want to participate, that's totally fine too; I'm not trying to make anyone feel obligated.(:**

**I'll be back in a few days with Chapter 35!**


	35. Part I - Dramatics

Dramatics

_July 17, 1944_

It was past dinnertime when she finally arrived at her parents' vacation home. She let herself in through the front door and realized not a single light was on. "Mother? Father?" she called, hearing only her own voice echo through the empty halls in return.

She gave up and walked to her room, assuming that they were next door at the Avery's. Her assumption was proven incorrect, however, when she noticed a slight movement of a shadow outside of her window; she recognized her father's tall frame in the moonlight instantly. Her heart began pounding in her chest as she readied herself to act as little suspicious as possible.

Basil had moved since she had seen him from her window; now he was sitting in his favorite deck chair, looking out toward St. Ives Bay. "I'm back, Father," she told him, leaning over his shoulder from behind him to lightly kiss his cheek. "Did you hear me come in?"

Basil didn't answer and took a long sip of his old-fashioned instead.

"Where's Mum?" she asked.

"Having a glass of wine with Mrs. Avery," he told her. His eyes were still trained on the bay when he asked, "How are the Donohue's?" She could hear the force behind the calmness in his voice and it took her less than a second to register the fact that he knew.

The panic set in almost instantaneously, as soon as she recovered from the shock. What was she supposed to do? This hadn't been part of the plan; it was something she hadn't even bothered rehearsing for. They had been so painstakingly careful, after all. She essentially had two options: to lie or admit that she had been with Tom.

Her breath caught in her throat when she finally made her choice, just as her father turned to look at her. He didn't bother to wait for whatever was going to come out of her mouth. "Well, you wouldn't know, would you?" His voice was ice. "They've never mentioned any interest in attending the Continental Wizarding Dueling Tournament, after all."

She had certainly seen an entirely new side of her father in the past few months, but she had never seen him this angry. Her voice was trembling when she asked, "How did you know?" There was really no point in lying anymore.

"Kerry Bostick, the Head of Marketing, attends each year. He saw you in the stands and thought it was very curious that you were there all by yourself. So he asked about it when he got back to work yesterday morning, of course: if your mother and I were actually there with you and it just so happened that we weren't around at the time he spotted you. Well, I'd seen the papers by then, all the ridiculous headlines of _that boy_, and it was quite easy to figure out your apparently sudden interest in dueling."

"I'm sorry," she muttered. The only thing she was actually sorry about was the fact he had found out about her deception, but had no idea what else to say that might appease him even slightly.

"Oh, what a fool you must take me for. And then I'm supposed to believe you're off with Faye for the rest of the summer? Well, there will be absolutely no chance of that now. The next time you step off this property will be when we're putting you on the train to school at King's Cross." He looked back out over the water and took another drink.

In a wave of stubborn indignation, she thought she might ask just what might happen if she disobeyed such orders. But she didn't have to. "You're on _very_ thin ice, my dear," her father continued. "The next time you decide to take a step out of line, I promise you, there will be more drastic consequences. Returning to Hogwarts will be the first to go…"

"Did Mum tell you to say that?" she blurted angrily, remembering the threat her mother had made when Rosemary refused to reconcile with Avery after their breakup.

"No. As a matter of fact, she has yet to know about your dishonesty of these last few weeks…I thought I might spare you of that."

Heat was rising to her cheeks exponentially. "Oh, did you? _Really_. How thoughtful of you…I might have thought you were keeping it from her for your own gain."

Her father chuckled in amusement. "How could that possibly be for my own gain, Rosemary? Listen to yourself, you're being irrational."

"You're afraid she'd side with me," she snapped. "You're afraid she'll be sympathetic."

He shook his head just slightly. "You're mistaken; our views on the matter are quite aligned. Someone of your caliber has no business being with someone like…_that_." The last word was spoken with so much hate that it seemed weighted, lingering in the air around them for a few long seconds.

"I don't believe you," Rosemary said haughtily. "I spoke to Grandfather Em while I was in Paris and he told me _all about_ the boy Mum was in love with at Hogwarts."

Well, it certainly got Basil's attention. He stood from his chair, but the temper she had expected was absent from his face. His voice was cool and unwavering when he spoke. "This is another matter entirely."

She nodded. "It is, I agree. I can guarantee that the wizard Mum loved was half the one Tom is. I wouldn't care if he were _muggle-born_; he would still be the most brilliant person I have ever met. I mean, he was in the Tournament, Father…almost in the quarter-finals…It's basically the World Cup of the dueling world. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Don't you see that he's just as clever– if not more so– than any pure-blood wizard we know?"

"It's getting tiresome to hear you going on like this, like having superior blood status is something that can be earned. He'll never be like you …us. It's foolish to think otherwise and that's how everyone else will see you too – a fool. Throwing away your entire life for someone so improperly suited for you…"

"And just what is it that I would be throwing away?" Rosemary asked heatedly. "Money? Tom makes plenty through dueling. The chance to waste away at a thousand luncheons and galas? Yes, what an absolute _shame_ that would be."

"And what about your family?" her father asked.

"You say that as though we're close-knit," she scoffed, but regretted it when she saw the pain it inspired in Basil's eyes.

"Well, no matter," he began coolly as the evidence of her insensitive words vanished, "We'll have you married off to someone of a higher caliber before you even have the chance to throw away everything we've provided you."

"I'd rather die," she retorted.

Her father rolled his eyes and sighed. "Don't be so dramatic."

Of course, his words only served to anger her further. And, at least in her adolescent mind, she _wasn't_ being dramatic. It was true, after all; she _would_ rather die than marry someone other than Tom. But voicing her persistence on the matter wouldn't necessarily get her very far either; Basil didn't take her seriously enough for it to work. So, instead of another failed attempt at asserting herself, she spun on her heel and marched up to her room.

When she first closed her bedroom door behind her, she was tempted to scream as loudly as she could into the nearest pillow. But such an urge came to pass in a fraction of a second; then came the overwhelming sense of defeat. It was exhausting – so much so that she felt she couldn't even make it to her bed and settled for stretching out on the floor instead. She knew full well that her mother would scold her if she was there to see her, even though Zisly kept both their vacation home and their Weybridge estate impeccably clean. It wasn't ladylike to lie on the floor.

But there was no time to think of that now – no, right now, she needed a solution. She briefly pondered the idea of discussing things with her mother, given the fact that she _might_ be Rose's only ally against Basil. But surely this would only infuriate her father further; he would only become even more hell-bent to marry her off as quickly as possible. Besides, when Evelyn found out that Rose had paid a visit to Emerson, as there was no other way to explain how she had known of Pierce, Evelyn's teenage love, her reliability in supporting Rose would certainly be called into question.

In a brief moment of insanity, she wondered if she could possibly convince Tom to run away with her. Where would they go? Italy would be nice, she thought. Or perhaps Germany. Not that it mattered, of course. She knew that Tom loved her, but something told her that he couldn't simply leave everything behind the way she might be able to. It made her sad, in a way, knowing that she wasn't all he needed.

A knock at her bedroom door interrupted her from her thoughts.

"Go away!" she cried, thinking it to be her father.

The doorknob began turning anyway and she realized she hadn't locked it behind her. She thought of reaching for her wand, but it wasn't within an arm's length and she felt too lazy to move.

Rose sat up, recognizing Markus' face immediately. "Sorry…I thought you were someone else…" She had tried to be vague, but there was little question who she was talking about. If her mother was at the Avery's, it was obvious that her father had been the target of her outburst.

Markus smirked at her, let himself into her room, and closed the door behind him. His sandy blonde hair was a bit longer than it had been when she had last seen him on the train home from Hogwarts and it was _certainly_ more tousled. He looked a little high, as was typical for him during the summer due to his nearly incessant use of hashish. "Trouble in paradise?" he asked her.

She groaned and collapsed back down onto the floor as he took a seat on the armchair in the corner of her room. "You have no idea," she said.

"I think I do, actually…Your Mum mentioned you would probably be back around this time, so I thought I might come over to ask about the details of the tournament..."

"How'd you find out I was there?" she interrupted.

"Lestrange."

"Faye wasn't supposed to tell anyone! I'll never trust her with a damn thing again..."

"Calm down. It's fine if we know," Markus told her, with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

"I'm not sure Tom would think so…" Rosemary muttered before she could stop herself.

"She doesn't know anything that Lestrange and I don't…and Tom knows that."

His words took a moment to register. "Wait – you know that he's…"

"Half-blood? Yeah."

She looked at him, entirely dumbfounded. For a moment, she was rather angry with Tom. He had given her such a hard time about telling Faye, but Markus and Adam had known all along.

"Anyway," Markus continued, as her annoyance with Tom quickly faded from her consciousness, "I was walking over to visit you when I heard you arguing with your father…"

So, he really did know the whole of it. "What in Merlin's name are Tom and I going to do, Markus?"

He shook his head and smirked. "Not a clue…Basil was hard on me when you and I were together, even without an issue of blood."

She glared at him. "This isn't funny."

"I know," he said as his face hardened in seriousness. Which, for him, was a rarity. "I wish I knew how to help…you two are _clearly _supposed to be together. When you're with him, it's the happiest I've ever seen you."

Rose inhaled, nervously awaiting a sad look or tone to accompany his words, but fortunately it never came. It was a wonderful moment of reassurance that their long friendship had persisted through their awkward years in a relationship and the subsequent breakup earlier that year.

"You bring out a different side of Riddle. He's certainly become more…easygoing." It was clear that Markus was trying to choose his words carefully, as though she was going to go and tell Tom the moment Markus said something even potentially offensive. It was rather odd. "And it's not as though he's even _like_ other half-bloods. I mean, shit, he acts more pure-blooded than I do, Rosie."

"Try telling my father that," she sighed, but was inwardly quite thankful to add another name to the list of people who thought of Tom the same way she did.

"I would, if I didn't think he might try and break my arm. After all, what would Slytherin do without its star Beater?"

Rosemary rolled his eyes. Then she said in exasperation: "I've decided; he and I will just have to run away."

"I can't see Tom going for that," Markus said, as he casually played with a string hanging off the armchair.

"I know." She frowned, feeling rather helpless once more…until she was hit with a sudden stroke of genius. "Wait a moment…" She stood up. "What if we told our parents that _we_ had gotten back together and were planning to be married? We'd only lie to them, and only until we graduate. I'd still be seeing Tom, of course, and you'd still be seeing…Rebecca." Rosemary still couldn't help but say her name slightly bitterly, though it had nothing to do with jealousy. She simply didn't like the fact that Rebecca and Markus had put her in the position to play the fool for so long. "It would all be for show-"

"Rosie," Markus interrupted her abruptly and she realized that she had been pacing around the room, speaking in hurried tones the way a mad person might. "That's not going to happen."

"Why?" She couldn't stop herself from saying. "You owe me, remember? For what happened with Orion?"

"I don't owe you a damned thing." It was perhaps one of the first times she had seen Markus genuinely frustrated with her. "You obviously had feelings for Riddle before we split." He narrowed his eyes at her and she immediately regretted everything she had said in the last minute or so.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, looking down at her feet. "That was selfish. I'm sorry. And you're right, you don't owe me anything."

"That's alright, you're just a bit worked up is all…"

She nodded.

"I mean, there are a few things I can think of that would take your mind off things," he smirked.

Then it was her turn to look at him in outrage. "Just a moment ago you completely reject my idea and then you have the _nerve _to suggest _this_? You're such a pig, Markus Avery."

The smirk failed to vanish from his face. "I was joking, Rose." She wasn't convinced, but it was certainly more convenient to believe him. He stood and walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "It's just too much fun to see you riled up. And I'm sorry, I wish I could think of a way to help. If you do end up thinking of something I can do that isn't entirely mad, let me know."

"Thank you," she said.

He kissed her forehead and she was grateful for its brotherly, utterly nonromantic quality.

"Would you come back over for breakfast tomorrow morning?" she asked him. "That way I can slip you a letter to send to Tom. Around nine or so?"

She was surprised by the look of hesitation that followed. "Rebecca is coming early tomorrow morning," he explained. "She'll be here for much of the summer."

By this, he meant that if he was to come over, so was Orion. "Fine," Rosemary sighed. It would be worth it, she supposed, if it meant she would be able to communicate with Tom.

Avery let himself out and she locked the door behind him. She sat at her desk, attempting to draft a letter to Tom, but words failed to come to mind. How could she possibly begin to break the news to him? How could she tell him that, even though they were painstakingly careful, her parents had found out anyway? Or that she might well be married the next time they saw each other?

She needed to speak with him in person. A letter was not even close to suitable for such a situation: it would leave too many unknowns. How could she possibly convey the depths of her distress through ink and paper alone? But, a letter would have to do. It was all she had at the moment.

Rosemary began writing a recount of what happened that night while attempting to keep her emotions from getting too carried away. After nearly an hour of writing, she reread the letter in frustration. It sounded excessively detached and almost cold, as though it was merely a report in _The Daily Prophet_. She reached for a new sheet of stationary, wondering how to strike a balance between what she had just written and something that would be far too sentimental. He wouldn't like it if she used too many frothy, passionate words; he would want the facts first. She could get to her feelings later, as well as a few attempts to comfort him.

But how could she hope to console him? She couldn't even console herself. Any way she sliced it, they were doomed. Her mind drifted to the possibility that she might never lie in his arms again or experience the bliss that was pressing her lips against his. And what would she do if she could no longer experience his brilliance – if she could no longer gaze at him in amazement as he displayed his vast knowledge, explaining some sort of obscure magic she had never heard of.

No, she could not let any of it disappear. She needed it; she needed _him_. Even if her father married her off tomorrow, she would still see him. At Hogwarts she would slip into his room, just across the hall from her Head Girl suite. It didn't even bother her to know how improper it was.

But, she realized with a sinking feeling, it would only drive Tom mad. Rose knew that his pride would never allow him to become the man on the side, nor did he deserve it. She would inevitably despise herself for degrading him in such a way and surely he would become resentful. He was too exceptional a man; she felt that anything short of her full affections would be simply unsuitable.

Perhaps, if she were married off before her time at Hogwarts concluded, she could pursue a divorce and then she and Tom could finally be together. But that was tricky, too; to obtain a divorce, she would need to prove her husband's infidelity and that wasn't exactly something she could guarantee would happen. Plus, this all hinged on the fact that Tom would be willing to wait for her and she wasn't sure he would, even though she knew he loved her. He could decide at any moment that she was no longer worth waiting for; such unknowns were difficult to reconcile.

Then a truly terrifying thought entered her mind – what if, one day, she had to see him with somebody else? She pictured him smirking at some mystery girl while they held hands. Maybe it would be one of the vapid girls he met at the tournament. How could she even dream of bearing it? There were few things she could think of that would be more painful.

Her hands were trembling when she placed the finished letter in an envelope. It was now early in the morning and she just had a few hours to sleep before Markus and Rebecca arrived for breakfast, though she knew full well that sleeping wasn't actually going to happen. As she pressed her seal on the envelope, she couldn't help but feel that something terrible had been set into motion and that things would soon become much worse. But, there was little she could do. All that was left was to see what came next.

* * *

_"I will love you 'til the end of time; I would wait a million years. Promise you'll remember that you're mine." – Elizabeth Grant_

* * *

**Thank you to A regrettable decision, Lucy Greenhill, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, RosiePosie15, and CharlotteBlackwood for reviewing the last chapter. I also owe a huge thank you to all of you that have favorited/followed! Knowing that people are reading this certainly helps to keep me motivated. :D**

**In the next chapter we'll be checking in on Tom and seeing how he takes the news! Thanks for reading! **


	36. Part I - An Ardent Assistant

An Ardent Assistant

* * *

"_You're my downfall; you're my muse; my worst distraction." – John Roger Stephens_

* * *

_July 20, 1944_

Well, it certainly wasn't the flat in Paris. But it wasn't the dreadful orphanage he had spent his youth imprisoned in, either. He had told himself months ago that he would be damned if he ever returned to it and swore that the only reason he ever would was to burn it to the ground.

Thankfully, his winnings from the tournament would support him at least until the end of the summer. Anything in Diagon Alley had far exceeded his price range, though, so he had extended his search to Knockturn Alley.

"Well, what do you say, Mr. Riddle?" the leasing agent asked.

Both the man's demeanor and overly greasy, slicked back hair made Tom think that he was probably getting a terrible deal on the place, but it didn't matter. Nothing really mattered anymore.

"I'll take it," said Tom.

The agent clapped him on the back. "Excellent! You're a good lad, Tom Riddle. I don't often deal with clients with such prestige..." He winked and Tom knew that he was referring to the tournament. "I daresay that I like you so much I'll give you ten percent off the first three month's rent if you extend your lease for a full year…"

"I'm going back to Hogwarts at the end of this summer," he said flatly.

"Ah, my mistake. You seem older, but I suppose the papers _did_ say you were only seventeen-"

"Could I just sign the lease?" Tom asked impatiently, eager to be left alone once more.

The agent nodded and handed it to him. The flat was furnished with a couple of armchairs and a bed, but lacked a kitchen table, so he used the wall as a flat surface to sign the papers against instead.

Minutes later, the agent was gone. Tom didn't bother to lock the door behind him, even though the flat was in a notoriously crime-ridden area. He sunk into one of the chairs with a bottle of scotch and pack of cigarettes, fully equipped for his second full day of brooding. His mind felt lackluster and dulled and he knew it was because of the lack of sleep the last couple of nights, but it couldn't be helped. Nor had he eaten much at all.

He looked around the sitting room, truly surveying the flat for the first time. The floors were filthy and he doubted that the place had been cleaned after the prior tenant. There were lace-like cobwebs at the corner of each dusty window and the wallpaper was beginning to peel. He thought of Rosemary being there with him. It was such a destitute, blatantly unsuitable place for her that he let out a faint laugh despite himself.

_Rosemary_.

He grew somber once more, almost wincing at the pain of just thinking her name. At least he didn't have to worry about her seeing his new place of residence. There was little hope that he would see her at all until the end of the summer. His stomach dropped as he realized that he might not even see her then – what if Basil was cruel enough to keep her from Hogwarts entirely? What if– Merlin forbid– he never saw her again?

In a way, he thought it might have felt better if he knew for certain that they were through. But he didn't. All he knew was the situation that she had described in her letter; she had mentioned nothing of its implications or what she wished to do about the matter. So, for now, he was stuck in an unforeseeable state of affairs and both the uncertainty and his inability to come up with a sensible plan were making things excruciating. He wanted – needed, really – to know: was there still even the slightest chance that Rosemary could still be his?

Perhaps what was most deeply unsettling was the fact that, not only days before, things had seemed so hopeful and bright. Secure. For the first time in his life he was beginning to become comfortable with the fact that he relied on her to some degree. It was terrifying that something with such certainty (or at least the illusion of it), could crumble apart so violently and in such a short amount of time.

In one of his recent, darkest moments, he wondered if he shouldn't just give up on her altogether. Even if they somehow made it through until the end of their terms at Hogwarts, her parents would continue to be an issue. Rosemary would always have to choose; things would never be easy for her. Maybe it had been selfish of him all along to make her face that choice again and again.

But he wouldn't give her up, of course. In truth, he didn't really care if it made him selfish: thinking of being without her simply felt dreadful and the possibility of their relationship coming to an end was driving him mad. Even if Basil cruelly married her off before his power over her fate was relinquished, Tom would wait for her. He had to; there was an ominous feeling inside of him that told him life without her would lack a certain meaning.

He was drunk by noon and had moved on to cursing her for evoking such emotions within him. Before Rosemary, he had never experienced such painful longing for anything. Anything else he ever wanted had always been easily within grasp, thanks to the combination of his charisma and brilliant mind. He felt nostalgic for the days when sentiments failed to penetrate his cool, guarded persona. Nothing even so much as fazed him, back then. Tom wondered if things could even return to the way they had been if Rose was no longer his, or if she had permanently altered him somehow. He dreaded it might be the latter, but was strangely comforted by the fact that everything he had ever thought would be permanent seemed instead to be built upon shifting sands.

* * *

By the early evening, he had sobered himself to a respectable degree in fear that he was on track to becoming a Beaumont-level alcoholic. He had also realized that mulling over the situation with Rosemary would only make him more miserable by compelling him to confront depths of himself of which he was rather uncomfortable with.

After Tom finally forced himself out of the flat into a nearby pub for dinner, he found himself wandering the streets, going in to nearly every shop and having a look around to keep his mind preoccupied. This became significantly easier when he reached Borgin and Burkes, his favorite store in Knockturn Alley.

Caractacus Burke appeared at the doorway with a key in his hand just as Tom reached it. It took the old man a few moments to recognize him, but finally: "Ah, Tom Riddle! I haven't seen you in ages."

"Evening, Mr. Burke," Tom smiled with his usual charm. "Were you just about to close for the day?"

"Yes, but do come in. I'll give you a private tour of some of the rarer artifacts we're about to put on display."

Tom nodded and stepped inside while Caractacus locked the door behind them. Burke would inevitably try and sell him something– he was a notoriously persistent salesman– but his respect for Tom's knowledge of the store's goods at least prevented him from bothering to try and cheat him.

"I followed you in the papers last month," Burke told him as he led Tom upstairs to the shops' storeroom. "You've always come off as bright, but that was truly impressive. Congratulations."

Tom's pleased smirk was glued to his face as his chest filled with pride, despite the lasting bitterness of knowing that he could have made it even further in the tournament if it hadn't been for the bloody reporter that distracted him.

Burke showed him several dark artifacts while they chatted: cursed robes; an antique cauldron that was hundreds of years old; a schoolbook that had belonged to Gellert Grindelwald before he was expelled from Durmstrang…

"You've heard of Grindelwald, I trust?" asked Mr. Burke. "The papers say he's becoming more powerful by the day…the Ministry is terrified, I'm sure."

Tom nodded. Rosemary had translated a French newspaper for him, which had been the first time he'd heard of the dark wizard. But both word and panic had spread quickly since then, likely due to the same international competition he had just attended. Grindelwald had become public knowledge in Britain nearly overnight, which meant _The_ _Daily Prophet _and Ministry could no longer ignore his presence.

"I'm not really sure what to make of it all," Burke continued grimly. "Every muggle in the world under wizarding control…Where do you fall on all this, Riddle?"

Tom had certainly been thinking through it in the past few weeks (except for lately, of course, given his preoccupation with Rosemary). "I think he's a loon," he responded flatly. "I'd much rather see the wizarding world move further from the muggle one than closer. It will only encourage more disgraceful marriages which will then depreciate what's left of the wizarding world." He couldn't help but think that, if he had the amount of power that Grindelwald had obtained, he wouldn't waste it on something as ridiculous as attempting to abolish the Statute of Secrecy.

Burke nodded. "You make a fine point. I'm with you, on that."

Talking with someone like Burke, who wore his blood prejudice on his sleeve, was really rather nice. As there was no fear of offending him, it allowed Tom to speak candidly. Nor was there any worry of being called a hypocrite: Burke had assumed from the moment they met that Tom was a normal, arrogant pure-blood.

"Anyway…Did anything catch your eye? I'll give you a discount, you know, as a regular customer _and_ former Tournament competitor."

"Not today. Thank you, though," Tom told him politely, although he probably would have bought the entire store if he had enough money.

"Can't say I blame you," Burke sighed as he led Tom back downstairs. "There's not a lot of selection at the moment, I know. Borgin is _supposed_ to be traveling the world and sending back new items relatively frequently, but I have the feeling he's doing more sight-seeing than actual work. Since he's barely sending anything back anyway, I'd rather him come back to the store and help out…it's rather difficult to manage on my own."

Burke's words made him feel somewhat optimistic for the first time in two days. He knew he needed to get a job until he went back to Hogwarts, after all. And what better place than this, where he would be surrounded by objects that garnered his infinite curiosity? He could think of no better distraction from young Miss Horton.

"I could help out," Tom offered. "At least until the end of the summer."

Burke looked surprised, but quite pleased. "That would be excellent, Mr. Riddle."

* * *

_July 31, 1944_

"I don't know…I'm not quite sure I'm ready to part with them. They _did _belong to my great-grandfather Cyrus."

"You wouldn't have brought them in if you weren't sure," Tom told the young woman softly, looking at her directly in the eye. "Besides, if you change your mind before someone purchases them, you're welcome to buy them back."

"Well, that's true, I suppose." She smiled at him, handing over the large stack of very old books.

He paid her from the register and wrote her a receipt, meaning the deal was official, even though the purchase had _really_ happened the moment she had stepped through the door to see Tom Riddle, the handsome, youngest-ever competitor of the Continental Wizarding Dueling Tournament standing at the front counter. Even in the cases that someone failed to recognize him, his effortless charm, maturity, and confidence would win them.

"I know I've said this before, but you're quite brilliant at this job," Burke told him after the woman left. "Are you sure you need to return to Hogwarts this autumn?"

"I'm sure," Tom smirked at his boss' half-joking tone as he copied the titles and authors of the books onto the store's inventory sheet.

"Why don't you head home early this evening? I can close up the shop…you've certainly been working enough."

It was true: every day after Burke hired him, eleven days prior, Tom had worked in the store from eight in the morning to seven in the evening. It was admittedly tiring, but a much-needed distraction from his chaotic, despairing (and considerably _more_ tiring) thoughts of Rosemary. Even though they had written back and forth a few times after her initial letter, essentially none of his questions regarding how they might proceed had been answered.

Besides, he rather enjoyed it – at least as much as he could enjoy anything given the circumstances.

"I don't mind staying. It's only three or four more hours," he told the co-owner, rather apprehensive to return to his flat where his mind would be free to its own devices.

Burke sighed. "I'll be honest with you, Riddle…It's great that you want to help out and I certainly mean what I say when you're exceptionally good at the job, but we simply don't generate the sort of revenue that will support someone working nearly eighty hours a week."

Tom nodded in understanding. "You don't have to pay me for all of it," he said finally.

"My, you're an odd lad." Burke looked at Tom in curiosity, as if he were appraising an artifact. "I'm quite serious though…go home, Riddle. Get some damned rest."

Tom panicked slightly; he thought he had been quite close to convincing Burke of letting him stay, but apparently not. He eyed the nearby stack of books that the store had just acquired and another idea entered his mind. "I'll leave," he said, "But can I take these with me to look over?" He gestured to the books. "It will be easier to sell them if I can describe their exact contents."

"Fine," Burke said begrudgingly after giving him a long, incredulous stare.

Satisfied that he now had material to keep him occupied until he could finally doze off to sleep that night, Tom triumphantly slid the books off the counter and set off for his flat.

There was no letter from Rosemary to greet him when he let himself in, which admittedly came as a bit of a relief. He had begun to dread her replies with the knowledge that someday soon there would be one to inform him she was engaged.

After a quick dinner that consisted of a slice of bread with a bit of jam, he started on the pile of books. Tom handled them carefully; each of them was a first edition and quite valuable as a result. They were certainly worth more than what he had obtained them for.

The first book he reached for was, perhaps unsurprisingly, _Secrets of the Darkest Art_. There were other titles in the mix he was certainly looking forward to (_Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration_,_ Dark Arts: A Legal Compendium_, and _The Nature of Oracles_), but they didn't intrigue him in quite the same way.

Inside the front cover, someone had written:

"_Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires."_

― _William Shakespeare_

He contemplated it for a moment. It wasn't a bad quote, he supposed, even though he rather abhorred Shakespeare for being a Muggle.

Tom scanned the table of contents and he was instantly even more eager to begin reading. There were chapters upon chapters covering topics that he had been exploring for months: legilimency and occlumency, curses, dark potions, and even Horcruxes. He flipped to the first chapter and was largely impressed by the depth of detail in which each subject seemed to be described. Instead of wasting his time on the comparatively conservative texts of the Restricted Section, he could have been an expert in these topics long ago if he had just been able to read this one book instead. It was then that Tom decided that when he returned to work the next morning, he would purchase the book and keep it for himself. He could certainly use it, after all; especially if he was going to keep up with his goal of becoming a greater wizard than Dumbledore.

After about an hour or so, he had flipped ahead to the chapter on Horcruxes. He would come back to the others, of course, but it was such a tabooed topic that he simply couldn't help himself.

What was strange was that he couldn't remember when he had first heard of Horcruxes. Surely he had stumbled upon them through one of his readings, but it was odd that he failed to recall exactly which one; he usually had such a keen memory for that sort of thing. He then thought back to his conversation with Slughorn on the matter, which had taken place at the beginning of last year; it had been impulsive (not to mention risky, as it had surely drawn attention to his interest in the dark arts – the one branch of magic that was exceptionally discouraged at Hogwarts), as though a whisper of his subconscious had told him to pursue it.

His puzzlement over the whole thing intensified as a feeling of familiarity washed over him upon scanning the chapter. He remembered bits and pieces here and there and he could think of no rational explanation for such a phenomenon. If he had read this book, he simply would have remembered; it was far too interesting to him to think otherwise.

Although, this feeling of déjà vu _was_ beginning to nag at him. Perhaps he'd find an answer for the peculiar sensation in his notes of previous readings. He put on some water for tea before striding across the flat to his bedroom, where he knelt on the wood floor and dug through his trunk. If he had unpacked, it would have made the task much easier, but he doubted he would unload his trunk at all before going back to Hogwarts. There was only a month before school began once more, after all. Plus, he was still in a bit of denial that he actually lived in such a deplorable place and felt that moving in fully would sacrifice the last shreds of dignity he was still holding onto.

He located his diary and flipped it open only to be filled with alarm at the fact that it was blank as the day he had purchased it from Winstanley's Bookstore and Stationers. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, hoping that he was simply sleep deprived and his eyes had spectacularly deceived him the first time. No such luck.

How could this possibly be? How could nearly two hundred pages of notes seemingly vanish with no trace whatsoever? He had written in the thing not even three days prior and absolutely nothing had seemed out of the ordinary then.

The only explanation he could think of in his newfound panic was that someone had broken into his flat, stolen his diary, and replaced it with an identical version – all without his knowledge (and without a reasonable motive to do so). But this theory proved wrong as well; the corners were still worn exactly the same way he remembered and his initials were still embedded on the inside of the back cover.

There _was_ something that was curious about the back cover, though. He ran his finger over the place just to the right of his initials, where the leather wrapped around the diary and created a fold about five centimeters wide, and felt the outline of something inside of it. Tom hastily reached for his wand and muttered "_Diffindo_".

The strings holding the fold in place were cut and he tore it back to reveal a miniscule, neatly folded piece of parchment. He opened it, staring in confusion as he read:

"_I AM LORD VOLDEMORT"_

* * *

**Mwahaha a cliff-hanger! A pretty big one, too, because next chapter will be in Rosemary's POV once more.(;**

**The next two chapters both take place on the same day as this last part (July 31, 1944) Although this choice in date isn't really significant in any way, it IS a big day in the story for a LOT of reasons - some that are obviously described in this chapter.**

**In other news, this story has reached 199 follows! Wow! Thank you all soo very much (plus all of you who have favorited, of course)! I'm hoping for over 200 before I post the next update. :D**

**A huge thanks as well to CharlotteBlackwood, A regrettable decision, How910, Lucy Greenhill, AvalonTheLadyKiller, and RosiePosie15 for your reviews! **


	37. Part I - The Other Alley

The Other Alley

_July 31, 1944_

She had grown increasingly cynical as of late, but that was to be expected. It occurred to her that, although she could govern the millions of everyday decisions that life presented, the life-determining ones were always made for her. So, did the small decisions even really matter overall? What was the point in thinking consciously about anything? In the late hours of the night, when her mind seemed to be the clearest, she pondered such questions only to be driven deeper into her state of profound melancholy.

Even with this plague of hopelessness, her strong, stubborn will still won out on some days. It lay like pinpricks of light beneath the blanket of darkness that had developed inside of her. These were the best days: ones where she still felt empowered and in control of her fate to some degree.

This was one of those days.

Today, she had a plan. Instead of sleeping until ten or eleven, which had become her habit over the last week and a half, she got herself out of bed promptly at seven. She bathed and ate breakfast and when her mother found her, she was reading a copy of _The Comprehensive Guide to Entertaining for the Sophisticated Sorceress_. Just as she planned.

"You're awake," her mother commented with a raised eyebrow of surprise. "I was beginning to worry you'd turned into an idler, but perhaps there's hope for you after all."

Rosemary normally would have rolled her eyes and responded with a biting, sarcastic comment, but she instead gave her mother her sweetest smile. "I've grown tired of lying around, moping in bed. If you and Father are resolute to marry me off, I may as well prepare myself." She held up the book slightly to show her mother the title.

After the argument between Rose and her father the night she returned home from Paris, Basil had rapidly informed his wife of the situation. Rosemary assumed that it was a move he made to prove her claims of his insecurities wrong and she wasn't all that surprised when it had happened. Even though Evelyn was standing by her husband, she had said very little on the matter herself. But that was all about to change.

"Why the sudden shift?" her mother asked with a trace of suspicion.

Rosemary sighed, closed her book, and looked down at the front cover sadly. "I know– I've known for a while, really– that you and Father are right. I know that Tom will never be accepted into this world and that I'd lose everything if I chose to be with him. And I don't want to lose everything you've given me. I love this world and I love being a Horton…as much as I love Tom, it would never be enough."

Her mother's eyes softened considerably and she moved to sit near Rose on the couch. "Love is such a strong word, dear…"

"I mean it. I love him…every last breath of me does. But I think the fleeting pain of letting him go would pale in comparison to the slow, lasting pain of losing everything else."

Evelyn leaned forward and tucked a bright red lock of Rosemary's hair behind her ear. She had always hated it, but let her mother do it this one time. "When did you become so wise? You've turned into such a young lady. Your father and I-" she paused and for the first time in Rosemary's life, she saw tears forming in the corners of her mother's dark blue eyes. "We _are_ very proud of you, Rosemary. I hope you know that."

She averted her gaze from Evelyn's. "There's no need for niceties, Mother, I know how disgraceful I've been. I'm sure you and Father never disappointed your parents in such blatantly improper ways."

Evelyn hesitated and Rosemary waited anxiously. This would be the pivotal moment that would either cement her plan into place or derail it entirely. Finally, her mother said, "I shouldn't dare to bring this up, but-"

And with that, her plan was set into motion.

"When I was your age, I was in a situation quite like yours," her mother started, still sounding rather hesitant. "I was in love with a boy named Pierce…he was brilliant, charismatic, handsome…quite like Tom, really. He was even in Slytherin. But, he came from a blood traitor family so, of course, your grandfather wouldn't have it. I was given the same choice that you have. I loved Pierce for quite a long time, even after your father and I were engaged. I sulked around the house like a miserable wretch. I wasn't nearly as strong as you are…"

Rosemary attempted to look surprised at her mother's confession. "And do you regret it? Marrying Father even though you still loved Pierce?"

Evelyn gave her a small smile. "At first, of course. But I grew to love your father just as much, if not more. There's something to be said of security, which is something Pierce never could have afforded. At least not in the same way...I certainly feel as though I made the right decision."

It was not the answer Rosemary was hoping for. Even though it was rather selfish, she had wanted her mother to profess a lifelong regret regarding her choice. It would have made things much easier. But she really shouldn't have expected so much; even if Evelyn _did_ regret things, it wasn't as though she was going to come out and tell Rosemary.

However, upon hearing her mother's words, Rose couldn't help but wonder for a few short seconds if she actually would be happier in the long run if she didn't choose Tom. Things had apparently worked out quite well for her mother, after all.

These preposterous thoughts vanished just as quickly as they had appeared when she remembered that her situation with Tom was entirely different from her mother's with Pierce. If she followed Evelyn's reasoning she would have to assume that Tom would never be a part of the pure-blood world. But Rose _didn't_ believe truly believe that. She had such confidence in his natural charm that she was certain he could indeed find a place for himself. It was impossible for her to see her family or social status as a permanent loss; it was merely something that she and Tom would regain in time, together.

"Do you think that's why Father is so against my being with Tom?" Rosemary asked her mother in her most innocent tone. "Do you think he's…hurt in some way? It could be a painful reminder…"

Evelyn considered it for a moment. "He has seemed particularly severe as of late," she admitted. "But I do agree with him on the fact that you and Tom simply do not belong together."

Rose's heart sank slightly, but she was still pleasantly surprised by the fact that her mother was being at least reasonable fair. "He's going to marry me off the first chance he gets, isn't he?"

"That _does_ seem to be his goal. But I'll give you my word that I won't allow you to marry anyone unless there's at least a faint chance you can learn to love them."

"Thank you," Rosemary disguised her smile as faux gratitude, but it had truly appeared because she had succeeded in her goal of buying herself and Tom more time. "I do have a favor to ask…It's Faye's birthday and the whole lot of them are going to London tonight for dinner. I know I'm not supposed to leave, but I'm going mad being cooped up here. If I'm married before next summer, this will be the last summer I'll have to spend with them..."

"Your father wouldn't like it," Evelyn began sternly. "He certainly doesn't trust you around Faye since she lied to facilitate your little fling."

"Faye didn't know where I was. I just asked her to cover for me and she did because she's my best friend," Rose lied. Then she continued pointedly: "Plus, Father's on business for Comet and won't be home for a few days…"

Her mother looked at her for a long time before finally giving in. "I suppose it's alright."

"Faye will be so pleased," Rose smiled again. "Thank you." Then, to put the finishing touches on her plan that had gone extraordinarily well, she put on a grim expression once more and said, "It's so sad to think about growing up."

"We should have a drink," said Evelyn. "It will help your nerves. Perhaps a gin martini?"

Rose nodded, though for her, the drink would be more celebratory than conciliatory.

"You've turned into such a young lady," her mother repeated for the second time that morning as she handed Rose her drink and rejoined her on the couch.

It was the first time in her life that her mother had looked at her this tenderly and Rose couldn't help but wish she could actually enjoy it without the gnawing guilt billowing inside of her. This moment made her ache, but she would be strong; heartless, even, if she had to. She would do it again and again for him if that was what it took to be together.

* * *

"_We were not a hugging people. In terms of emotional comfort, it was our belief that no amount of physical comfort could match the healing powers of a well-made cocktail." – David Sedaris_

* * *

The Avery's house-elf let her in and told her that the others were in the living room, preparing to Floo to London.

"Do we _have_ to Floo?" whined Rebecca. "It's always so…filthy."

"Not if you cast a Clothes-Guard Charm," Rosemary said snidely as she appeared at the doorway. Markus smirked, which promptly earned him a scowl from Orion.

"You made it!" Faye exclaimed, rushing over to give her a quick hug.

"Happy birthday," Rosemary smiled at her.

Donohue smiled back and thanked her, but Rose couldn't help but notice her friend's slight air of force beneath her merriment. It didn't seem too far off to assume she might be upset; after all, Rose was essentially using Faye's birthday as an excuse to see Tom. It made her feel at least a little guilty and she knew she would have to bring it up and apologize at some point…but what other choice did she really have at the moment?

"Let's get going," said Markus. He added with a wink: "There's someone who is surely _very_ eager to see you."

"Not here," Rose hissed, looking around nervously. Markus' parents were nowhere in sight, but being extra cautious certainly wouldn't hurt. Things needed to go perfectly; after all, this was probably the only time she would be able to see Tom before they returned to Hogwarts.

They arrived in Diagon Alley (in perfectly unsoiled attire, thanks to the Clothes-Guard Charm) and Rosemary shot an impatient, expectant look at Adam. She wasn't trying to be rude, there was too little time for pleasantries. "So…did you find where he's been staying?"

"Not exactly," Adam answered. "But he's apparently been working at Borgin and Burkes…I ran into him a few days ago when my father and I visited the store. While he was busy with another customer, Mr. Burke told us that he works nearly all the time…so it sounds as though you might find him there."

Well, it wasn't as specific as she had hoped for, but it was at least somewhere to start. She really couldn't complain anyway; each of her friends had been instrumental in helping her put her plan into action and she owed each of them so much already. Markus had communicated with the others for her, though she had been hesitant at best to inform the others of the details of her relationship. Adam had tracked down Tom and Faye had been (at least outwardly) supportive of her birthday's use as a front for Rose's lies to her mother. Although Rose had been appalled at first that Markus had told her, even Rebecca had helped by suggesting a restaurant with a strict policy that required a reservation to enter so Rose's parents couldn't just pop by to check up on her.

"Is that in Diagon Alley?" Rosemary asked, the shop's name failing to ring a bell. "I've never even heard of it before."

"It's in Knockturn Alley…" Markus said slowly. "If you want, I can walk you there."

Rosemary did her best not to look nervous, even though she had never dared to step foot in Knockturn Alley, let alone when it was after dark. It was perhaps one of the most disgracefully sordid places in wizarding Britain. She shook her head. "You've all done plenty. I can take things from here…you should go out and enjoy yourselves." She looked around at each of them– even Rebecca– before saying "Thank you, truly."

Faye lingered behind the others as they strode off toward the east end of the Alley. "So you haven't told Riddle you're coming to visit?"

Rosemary shook her head. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

"He doesn't seem one to enjoy surprises…"

"This is different." She gave Faye a self-assured smile.

"Well, you know better than I do."

Her guilt reawakened and she found herself saying: "I'm sorry I'm not spending your birthday with you…It's just…"

"I'm sure you'll find a way to make it up to me," she smirked.

Rose was rather surprised at how nonchalantly she said it, given the fact that Faye had seemed rather upset earlier.

"Donohue!" Adam called from a way down the street. "Aren't you coming?!"

Faye suddenly looked quite nervous. "I didn't tell my parents or yours anything…I don't know how your father found out," she said suddenly. "I just wanted you– _both_ of you– to know that."

It slowly dawned on her that Faye was genuinely worried that Rose blamed her for the entire thing. "I know it wasn't your fault. One of my father's coworkers saw me at the Tournament. Markus didn't tell you that part?"

She shook her head.

"Of course," Rose muttered. "The one detail he decided to leave out…"

"I didn't know about any of it until I received Markus' letter. It certainly explained the look of disapproval your father gave me when we ran into him the day we came back to London." Faye smiled as though it was one of the most amusing things that had ever happened to her.

Rosemary smiled too, in spite of everything. "I'll see you in a couple of hours."

They parted ways and Rose walked briskly through Diagon Alley, feeling both anxious and excited to see Tom. She reached the dark passage that would lead her into Knockturn Alley and put the hood of her coat up. She began walking through it as quickly as she could, staring down at her feet as she strode through. Why did the alley seem so wet? She couldn't help but ponder the disturbing possibilities that might answer this question.

Still, looking at the ground was infinitely preferable to looking up: there was no way that she was daring enough to make eye contact with any of the frightening individuals lining the path. Some of them were arguing with each other and a few were speaking to themselves in frantic, paranoid tones. Worse yet were those that said nothing as she passed, but whose gazes bore into her as though she were some species of human they had never before seen.

Her heart pounded in her chest faster and faster, feeling as though it might explode by the time she reached the end of the long alleyway. Finally, she reached the opening at the main stretch of Knockturn Alley. She saw a sign for Borgin and Burkes that pointed just around the corner, but she paused and lit a cigarette as she caught her breath. Although she really didn't have any idea what to expect of Tom's emotional wellbeing, she thought it would be best to calm herself down as much as possible before seeing him.

Just as she stepped out her cigarette and was about to walk around the corner to the store, she heard a raspy, deep voice from behind her. "Are you lost, love?" he asked her.

Rose turned around slowly, while her heart rate climbed rapidly once more. "No. I'm not lost," she said in the most confident tone she could muster, though her voice had wavered slightly. He reeked of alcohol, as though he had doused his clothes with a bottle of whiskey. It didn't remind her at all of the way Tom smelled after drinking: that lovely trace of scotch on his breath. The man's hair was sweaty and disgustingly matted against his forehead and his beard was far past overgrown.

"Merlin's right nipple, you're tidy," he appraised her as she turned to face him. "Are ya sure, now? You look pretty lost to me. How's about I show you the way…"

"No thank you," Rosemary said firmly, though she was becoming more unnerved by the second. She could hear it in her voice, the way her tone grew higher with each syllable; she only hoped that he would be too drunk to pick up on it. "I have some place to be if you'll excuse me."

"Well, we could go together," he said, his eyes twinkling suggestively.

At this point, she was quite through with being polite. She spun on her heel and hurried away, rather afraid to glance back over her shoulder to see if he was following her. After rounding the corner and spotting the shop, she chanced it, and was relieved to find that there was nobody trailing behind her.

She walked into Borgin and Burkes, but was disappointed when she didn't see Tom standing at the front counter. In fact, the place looked like it might actually be closed: it was quite dimly lit and there was no store attendant in site. She spotted a tiny bell on the front counter, but before stepping further into the shop, she lowered her hood and quickly fixed her hair.

Rosemary crossed the room and rung the bell. It wasn't until then that she took conscious notice of her surroundings. In the glass case that also served as the front counter, there was a severed toe, a few pieces of jewelry that were allegedly cursed, a vial of Acromantula venom, and an assortment of other oddities that seemed to have been thrown together randomly. As hard as she tried, she simply could not picture Tom working in such a place. Had he really been this desperate to find work?

"Can I help you?" The voice was not Tom's, unfortunately. It belonged instead to an elderly, hunchbacked man.

"Yes, actually," she said. "I'm looking for Tom Riddle. Is he here now?"

Rose noticed a slight roll of his eyes as he said, "No…sent him home early…He'll be here tomorrow morning at eight."

"Well, it's a bit more urgent than that," she told him. "Do you know where he lives? I need to speak with him tonight."

"Miss," the man sighed in annoyance, "I can't just give out that sort of information without his approval."

"It's alright, really; he won't mind. I'm his girlfriend."

"You and every other girl that saw him duel in the Tournament," he muttered under his breath.

Heat rose to her face instantly. Not only was she taken aback by his tone toward her (_no one_ dared to speak to her this way), she was obviously startled by his comment as well. "Do you have any idea who I am?" she asked arrogantly.

He looked at her expectantly.

"My name is Rosemary Horton," she said proudly. "I've been Tom's steady for months now…surely he's mentioned me."

The old wizard continued to look thoroughly annoyed with her. "Sorry, I can't say it rings a bell…he's never mentioned you to me."

The words stung. Deeply. They made her wonder if coming to find Tom had just been one huge mistake. Perhaps, if he wasn't even mentioning her any longer, it meant that they were already through in his mind.

No – she wouldn't allow things to end that easily, even if that's what he wanted. She would at least require the decency of being told in person. "Perhaps you've heard of my father, Basil Horton? The Co-Founder of Comet Trading Company and previous Keeper for the Falmouth Falcons?"

The storekeeper grunted in response; she really couldn't be sure that he was paying attention to a word that she was saying until she added, "Perhaps we could negotiate a trade…"

"Trade?" he asked her. _That_ certainly got his attention.

She nodded. "I'll give you something valuable if you tell me where Tom is staying."

"Our antique broom collection is quite full," he informed her.

"It's not a broom that I'd like to trade." She reached into her coin purse and withdrew a small booklet that she had magically folded in order to carry it with her wherever she went. "It's this."

She handed it to the wizard, who slid on a pair of large glasses to examine it. "_The Official Quidditch Player's Guide to the 1926 Quidditch World Cup, _eh?"

Rosemary nodded. "As I'm sure you know, the guidebooks are quite rare. They're only given to the players, of course. And this year was especially memorable; it was the bloodiest World Cup in history."

He flipped through it, taking in the violent, gory pictures. Her father had given it to her years ago (though it probably wasn't the most appropriate present for a young girl) because he had wanted her to have the chance to see him while he was in his prime Quidditch years. She felt guilty for giving it away, but figured she could just come back to the store and buy it while shopping for school supplies in Diagon Alley at the end of next month.

"So, what do you say?" she asked him impatiently, as her remaining time to see Tom began to dwindle. "Do we have a deal?"

The man nodded slowly. Suddenly, he no longer appeared to think she was wasting his time. "Yes. I should think so." He scribbled down Tom's address on a piece of paper and handed it to her. "I'd like to think that you are who you say you are, but if you aren't, please don't harass the boy. He likes to keep to himself is all."

"I know," she told him before thanking him and leaving the shop. Rosemary followed his directions, and within a couple of minutes, she was standing outside the flat in which Tom was apparently living.

She knocked on the door and attempted to wait patiently. This was difficult, though, given the unease that had been created inside of her when she learned that Tom had apparently failed to mention her even once. The exterior of the flat itself made her even more apprehensive; it looked as though it was falling apart in a slow, painful way. There were also three homeless wizards within a ten meter radius of his front door.

Rosemary had expected him to live frugally, but this was another thing altogether. It was the type of neighborhood that the word 'safe' could only apply in a relative sense – a bit 'safer' than a burning building…or perhaps Azkaban. She underwent a sudden, terrifying realization that this was exactly what her life might become in less than a year's time, if she somehow evaded her parents' attempt at marrying her.

She tried to push the thoughts from her mind, telling herself that it didn't matter where they lived as long as they were together. She didn't need a sprawling estate or a closet with hundreds of dresses or even a house-elf. Besides, things would obviously get better once they were graduated and Tom secured a real job.

But, as she saw a wandering drunk unzip his trousers and take a piss in the potted plant that was not even five meters away from her, she couldn't shake her mother's words from earlier that day. What if, unlike Evelyn, she made a decision she would regret for the rest of her life?

* * *

**Thank you to those of you who left some reviews for me: AvalonTheLadyKiller, CharlotteBlackwood, RosiePosie15, The all mighty and powerfulM, Lucy Greenhill, MusicOfMyMind, and A regrettable decision! This story has reached 150 reviews which makes me sooo very happy and inspired for the coming chapters.(:**

**Also, OMG, over 200 follows! A big thank you to each and every one of you (as well as to those who have favorited, of course).**

**The next chapter will be a HUGE one in terms of a plot twist. It will answer (hopefully) all the questions you might have had after that lovely little cliffhanger last chapter.(;**


	38. Part I - Two Halves

**So...I was going to wait at least another day or two to post this, but I just can't help myself. :P Enjoy!**

* * *

Two Halves

_July 31, 1944_

As Tom eyed the small scrap of parchment he had extracted from the binding of his diary, the feeling of eerie familiarity that he had been experiencing all evening washed over him once more.

He retrieved his ink and quill from his trunk and flipped to the middle of the diary. A drop of ink dripped from his quill and landed in the center of the page. It was then that a truly curious thing happened: within a few seconds, it disappeared entirely, as though it was absorbed by the page itself.

Tom glanced again at the phrase:

"_I AM LORD VOLDEMORT"_

Perhaps the most unnerving part of it all was that the phrase was written in his very own handwriting, which he had just realized. A wild thought crossed his mind: was it some sort of password? He wrote the words carefully on the page where the drop of ink had landed a few moments prior, but looked at them in disappointment as they too faded away.

Who was this "Lord Voldemort" anyway? It was curious to him that the phrase was written in all capital letters, which made him wonder if it could possibly be some sort of anagram. It wasn't much of a stretch for him to think so – Tom loved puzzles (or really anything that required the application of his mind).

And, after only about ten minutes, he solved it. He could hear the tea kettle whistling in the kitchen, but the mystery of the diary held his full attention. With slightly trembling fingers, he wrote once again:

"_I AM LORD VOLDEMORT"_

And below it:

"_TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE"_

Tom scowled in frustration as the words vanished once more. He was about to close the diary and admit defeat when two words suddenly appeared on the page:

_Prove you are who you say you are._

He wrote back:

_How?_

Diary: _Who is your favorite Hogwarts professor?_

Tom, in state of curious disbelief that he was conversing with his diary (which was even more puzzling given the fact that it's calligraphy looked identical to his own): _Horace Slughorn_

Diary: _And what is his favorite dessert?_

Tom: _Crystallized Pineapple._

Diary: _Do you have any special talents? Ones that, to your knowledge, no other living person has?_

Tom hesitated. He had several talents, after all, and he didn't want to answer with the wrong one. Finally, he wrote what the diary was most likely looking for: _I can speak_ _Parseltongue._

For a few moments there was no response. Then: _Are you alone?_

Tom: _Yes_

Diary: _Good. We shall begin…What do you remember of last year?_

Tom (who was growing weary of the questions, especially since he had so many of his own): _Who are you?_

Diary: _In due time, My Lord._

Tom: _My Lord?_

Diary: _In due time._

Tom, sighing: _What part of last year?_

Diary: _How did Hagrid _actually_ get expelled?_

Tom looked down at the page in alarm. How could it possibly know one of his darkest secrets? His paranoia kicked in: what if someone had casted some sort of enchantment on his diary to get him to admit his wrongdoings? Who would be capable of such a powerful spell, though? And who would be suspicious enough of him to do so? Only one name came to mind – Dumbledore. Well, if that was really the plan, the old fool would have to try a bit harder than that.

Tom: _I think it's best that you divulge exactly who you are before we continue._

Diary: _There's nothing you can possibly hide from me; I know every aspect of your past. I am simply trying to gauge exactly how much of it you remember._

It was Tom's turn to say: _Prove you are who you say you are._

Diary: _Have it your way. I'll tell all – I just hope you're sitting down._

Tom: _Go on, then._

Diary: _Near the end of last year, you opened the Chamber of Secrets. You discovered the entrance after a considerably painstaking effort and released the creature that resides there, hoping it might send the message that mudbloods are not welcome at Hogwarts. Things didn't go to plan though, did they? Dippet threatened to close the school because of that filthy girl's death…it was almost too convenient that you could frame Hagrid. Term ended shortly after, so you were able to evade the questioning that Dumbledore surely had in store for you. He never believed a word of your story and you damn well knew it. Does any of this sound familiar?_

Tom, with disbelief: _Yes._

Diary: _Good. When did you remember?_

Tom: _When I took Rosemary to the Chamber of Secrets in February._

Diary: _What in the bloody hell – Rosemary who? Horton? Were you teaching Avery some sort of twisted lesson? Seems a bit drastic – she is a pureblood, after all…_

Tom: _Apparently you aren't aware of my entire past._

Diary: _I know everything that's happened up until this very day last year. The only things I know from the year that followed are those that you've written in these pages. But we'll come back to that (and Rosemary Horton…) later. Next, I must ask: what do you remember of last summer?_

Tom tried to remember, though he really hadn't thought much at all as of late that didn't have to do with the tournament, Rosemary's family, or his new job. He couldn't remember any specific events of last summer, but knew he had stayed at Hogwarts given the fact that he had nowhere else to go. He supposed this lack of memory of it all hadn't really struck him because it was something he had done every summer for the past few years; after a while, things had sort of become blended together.

Tom: _I stayed at Hogwarts. I spent most of my time reading…_

Diary: _In late July you paid a visit to someone; do you remember who? _

Tom tried to remember, but nothing at all came to mind: _No._

Diary: _Do you by chance remember your lineage? Besides the fact that you're the Heir of Slytherin?_

Tom: _Yes. I discovered I was part of the Gaunt ancestry last year… my mother's side._

Diary: _And your father?_

Tom: _I'd rather not say._

Diary: _Fair enough, though it is rather curious that you remember that, but not the events of that day…Well, anyway, last July, you took a trip to visit your Uncle Morfin in Little Hangleton and he revealed the answer to every question you had ever wanted to know about your parents. Then, in a rage upon hearing the truth (and quite impulsively, I might add…) you decided to off the lot of them: your disgusting muggle father and his parents. Thankfully, you were able to escape suspicion by framing Morfin with the whole thing. And don't worry…the ring is safe and sound._

Tom stared at the page in disbelief, even after the words had faded away. How could all of this happen without any sort of trace– not even a vague recollection– in his own mind? Even more perplexing – how did his _diary _apparently know about things that he didn't? He was at a loss for words, but finally wrote: _The ring?_

Diary: _Marvolo Gaunt's ring. It's in your vault at Gringott's._

Tom: _I don't have a vault at Gringott's._

Diary: _Yes you do. Since last July._

Tom's head was spinning. The more he found out, the more questions he had, but the diary wasn't giving him much of a chance to ask them. The sentences kept rapidly appearing, one after another.

Diary: _Continuing on…You became worried when you returned to Hogwarts and saw the article in _The Prophet_ regarding Morfin's sentencing in Azkaban. You grew paranoid that Dumbledore was beginning to look at you suspiciously, given that this had been the last of your family. You also knew there was a good chance he was a legilimens…It was the only way you could explain how suspicious he already was of you after Hagrid had been expelled. Thankfully, you had been able to keep your distance for a while, but it seemed as though things were beginning to unravel...you worried that each of these secrets would soon be revealed. _

_And then, one year ago this very day, you carefully Obliviated your own memory, preserving a copy of it within these pages. You tried to be as thorough as possible, of course, erasing anything that might be called into question in case Dumbledore or anyone else came to you and inquired about the Chamber of Secrets or the Riddle family._

_You then placed an enchantment on this diary so that your memory would reveal itself in exactly a year's time, figuring that it would be more than enough time to absolve any suspicions of you that had come about. It was impressive magic, really. But, as you well know, Obliviation is quite tricky, especially when it's meant to be temporary. Obviously, some of the memories came leaking back a little sooner. _

He had become sufficiently annoyed by the whistling tea kettle in the kitchen and had finally fetched his tea while the diary wrote its page-long anecdote, only to spill half the cup on himself in shock as he read the words that had appeared before him.

Tom allowed them to sink in for a few moments, even though he didn't necessarily doubt the veracity of the words for even a second. It was exactly what he would do if he was in such a situation…and it certainly explained the blank spots in his memory that he had been experiencing throughout the year.

Plus, all of a sudden, the memories of the previous year had begun flowing back to his mind in full force.

There was no longer a need to confirm, but he wrote anyway: _So, you're me…one year prior._

Diary: _You're taking this extraordinarily well…Do you remember now?_

Tom: _Yes. There's still one thing, though: what about this Voldemort person? _

Diary: _Well, he's us, too. He's the new…identity, I guess you could call it...that you (we?) created the a few days before erasing your memory. It was about time that you shed the disgraceful muggle name your mother had given you. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?_

Tom considered it for a moment: _Yes. I suppose it does. _

The next words appeared suddenly: _Onward with your memory recovery: what do you know of Horcruxes?_

Tom: _A considerable amount after speaking with Slughorn and reading the chapter regarding them in _Secrets of the Darkest Art.

Diary: _Did Dumbledore finally return it to the library?_

Tom: _I've never seen it in the school library. I acquired it from Borgin and Burkes._

Diary: _The old prick removed it last year when he was worried you were too interested in the Dark Arts. Well, I'm glad you haven't completely forgotten them. You were toying with the idea after the mudblood's death, but didn't know enough at the time to act on it. It's curious, isn't it? That becoming immortal is truly so simple…_

Tom: _It is._

He had probably a thousand questions to ask (and apparently quite a few memories left to regain), but a knock at the front door pulled him back to reality. Tom considered ignoring it, as it was probably just some drunk coming to ask him for a scrap of food anyway, but he heard another knock, a bit more frantic, this time, just as he turned back to the diary. Tom closed it with annoyance and hid it under his mattress before crossing the flat to the front door. He opened it without bothering to conceal the large wet spot on the front of his shirt from his spilt tea – it wasn't as though he felt the need to impress the squalor that showed up on his doorstep every evening.

An exceptionally conflicting mix of emotions washed over him when he instead saw Rosemary's pale skin and dark red hair glistening in the moonlight. First, it was disbelief – how did she manage to escape her parents' careful watch? Then brief happiness– it was truly wonderful to look into her deep blue eyes once more– followed by dread: what did she possibly think of him, knowing that he lived in such a place? He had never meant for her to see his flat. Last, he was rather furious – how had she found him, anyway? Didn't she know that it was exceptionally foolish for a young woman (especially one as marvelous as her) to be wandering the streets of Knockturn Alley at night?

Not to mention the fact that his head was still spinning from the influx of memories he had recovered just a few minutes prior.

"What happened to your shirt?" she asked after a long silence in which they had stood, staring at each other like strangers.

"Tea," he muttered, trying as hard as he could to contain his burgeoning temper toward her.

The one thing holding him back from releasing his anger unto her was the air about her. It threw him off entirely; she looked stiff and business-like…there was no trace of the smile that usually graced her features when she was around him.

Rose looked at him expectantly, annoyance apparent in her voice: "Well…may I come in?"

"I suppose," he told her, albeit a bit hesitantly. The last thing he wanted was for her to see the rest of his rather pathetic flat, but there was little that could be done at this point to prevent it. He couldn't exactly send her away.

Tom silently admitted defeat, stepping aside as she strode in and closed the door behind her. He stared at her while she looked around the flat for a few, long moments. Finally, she muttered, "Nice place."

It was perhaps the first time he had heard her use such a snobbish voice toward him and he could no longer fight his fury from surfacing. "Don't you dare patronize me," he snapped in a threatening tone, his last shreds of self-control quickly vanishing.

His anger must have inexplicably softened her somehow because surprisingly, she didn't respond with her own biting remark. "I'm sorry," she said apologetically. "I just thought you'd be happier to see me."

He was obviously happy to see her after everything that had happened, of course, but he was _not _happy that she had visited him _here. _He had tried to ignore the anger burning inside of him, but it was too late; he had already lost control. His voice became condescending in its own way as he snarled: "Don't you realize how dangerous it is for someone like you at this time of night!? I can't believe you would be so naïve!"

"Well I'm so sorry to have disappointed you, but it's not as though I can simply pick and choose when to visit," she said bitterly, her eyes hardening into a glare and losing any trace of softness from moments before. "My apologies…I shouldn't have come at all."

She gave him a look of disdain before she turned for the door. As Tom watched her, he experienced both the urge to let her go and the urge to ask her to stay. He suddenly felt as though he had been living in a fantasy for the past year, of which Rosemary was the primary component.

But the truth of the matter was that his life not so simple. Obviously. The parts of him that she would never know (and couldn't know) had increased exponentially over the course of just a few minutes. How could she possibly love him if she knew? Of the pureblood crème de la crème which she had been born into, she was certainly on the rebellious side (a quality he happened to adore in her), but that certainly didn't mean he could simply come out and tell her that he had murdered several people. With her, he knew he would always have to be somebody else, as much as he might yearn to reveal to her every dark, twisted part of his soul and plead for her understanding. This would become his new ideal…albeit one that would never be.

Despite this swift realization as well as his irritation with her, he knew that, without her, he truly wouldn't be himself any longer. If he let her go he would most certainly regret it, especially with how precarious their relationship already was at the moment. He caught her hand just as she reached the door and painstakingly forced himself to let go of his anger and pride. At least for the time being. "I'm sorry."

Tom tried to recover himself a bit, even though he was no longer sure exactly what it meant to be 'himself' anymore. "I am happy to see you," he told her when he had finally calmed himself, reaching up to touch run his hands along her smooth arms.

"Why are you acting so peculiar?" she demanded.

"I'm just…surprised that you're here. I wasn't expecting you," he told her. After all, it _was_ the truth. "And I could ask the same of you."

He led her by the hand to his armchairs, the only two pieces of furniture in the living room. He bit the inside of his cheek and stifled his anger once more while pretending not to notice when she eyed the dirty fabric warily, probably worried that it would ruin her dress the moment she took a seat. It was extraordinarily humiliating, not that he could really blame her all-too-apparent disgust with his living situation.

Thankfully, he was beginning to become too worried about her to bother focusing on his own emotions. Her hand felt limp as he held it in his own. She looked down at her palm as he turned it, eyeing it as though it were a foreign object and not a part of her own body. Then she looked at him in the eyes. He was startled immediately by the cool disenchantment of her gaze; it was the first time that she had ever looked at him in such a way and it fostered an absolutely terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"What's the matter?" he pressed, preparing for the worse. Given the regrettable situation they found themselves in and the look she was giving him, he wouldn't have been surprised if she was there to deliver some truly awful news. His imagination begun to run rampant with undesirable possibilities: perhaps she had gotten engaged; or worse, simply fallen in love with someone else.

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Well, besides the obvious, I stopped in to Borgin and Burkes to find you and the man you work for informed me that you've never so much as mentioned me."

Tom breathed a nearly audible sigh of relief. "Is that all?"

"What do you mean, 'is that all'?" she asked angrily, tearing her hand from his grip. "Were you worried that your Tournament slags wouldn't stop by anymore if they knew?"

It was the first time he had ever seen her acting jealous and one of the few times she had been angry toward him. Although he would never admit it to her, there was a rather significant part of him that loved seeing her angry; watching her become so unhinged always made her even more attractive somehow. In these rare, delicious moments in which he caught the glimpse of her darker side that had initially caught his attention all those months ago, the one that she wouldn't dare show anyone but him. She reminded him of a wild animal: impulsive and dangerous…not unlike himself, really. Perhaps the real reason he relished these moments was because they allowed him to see that the two of them were really quite alike. It reinforced his belief that, if anyone was ever to understand him, it would be Rose.

So of course he couldn't help but egg her on, if only for a little longer: "Miss Horton," he started as a teasing smirk spread across his face, "I never thought I would see the day…you're jealous, aren't you?"

"No I'm not," she snapped, her face turning a brilliant shade of scarlet. "I'm just a bit offended that, to you, I'm not even worth talking about."

"Of course you are," he told her, dropping the teasing tone from his voice. "Although, if I could, I'd keep you a secret from everyone so I could save you all for myself."

Her gaze softened, slowly losing its cool disenchantment.

"The entire reason I got the job was to distract myself from everything that's been going on," he continued. "That's why I haven't mentioned you to Mr. Burke."

"I see…" she paused and then added suddenly: "I don't know why I was so bothered by that…something so trivial. Although, I haven't really felt like myself at all lately."

"Nor have I," he told her (which in his case, as he thought back to the diary hidden under his mattress, could not be closer to the truth).

"You're all I think about," she said, raising one of her delicate hands and placing it gently on his cheek. He had forgotten how warm she always was. "All I can think of is being together. I love you so much."

Tom was hit with the full force of her words, as though he had forgotten just how greatly he could be moved by her. "What are we going to do, Rosemary?" he asked her, hating how pathetic his voice sounded to his own ears. He cursed himself for how he had neglected her in a way, forcing her to come up with a plan all by herself while he immersed himself in any and every distraction.

"Well, I do have some good news, believe it or not. I spoke with my mother this morning and she said that she will be appropriately picky with the suitors my father attempts to choose for me…I know it's not much, but at least it buys us some time. We'll be back at Hogwarts and together again soon, so perhaps we'll be able to come up with a definitive plan then…"

Tom nodded and attempted to smile, though he did not feel even remotely optimistic about finding an actual solution. But, as she leaned forward and kissed him, his cynicisms became irrelevant. He could not imagine that there might come a day that he may kiss her for the last time. In his mind, her parents no longer mattered; he swore to himself in that moment that she would be his and only his for the rest of their lives. The alternative was just too much to bear.

Rose explained how she had found him, describing the plan she had hatched with Avery and the others. As irate as he was that her plan had required her friends to discover even more details of their private life, he was rather proud of the way he she had manipulated her mother into allowing her to leave. She stayed for a while and they moved to his bedroom, swapping kisses and touches and sweet words beneath the covers. After all, they had to enjoy the things that could not be conveyed through their letters while they still could.

Eventually, though, the time he had been dreading arrived. He walked her back to Diagon Alley so she could meet up with Faye and the others on their way back to St. Ives. It was awful to see her go, knowing that it would be another long month before he saw her again, but at least his temper had subsided and they had left things in a good place.

When he returned to his flat, Tom wanted to lie in bed and savor the vivid memory of the last few minutes with her before they began to fade, but his tireless curiosity began to nag at him and his mind was pulled once more to the diary.

He opened it and a new message from his former self promptly appeared: _Now, then. What could you possibly have to do with Rosemary Horton?_

Tom closed his eyes, smiling a bit to himself before his response: _I haven't the first clue where to begin._

* * *

Later that night, when he finally retired to bed, there were at least a thousand thoughts swirling together through his mind. For the first time in a year, he felt like he might actually know himself entirely. Well, at least his past self, the one that committed such monstrosities that he could never so much as dream of uttering to another soul. Not to mention the fact that, while conversing with himself through the diary, he had reawakened his goals for his future. His desire to become one of the most well-known, powerful wizards of his time was again coursing through his veins.

He supposed that he had another self that he knew quite well, too: the one that loved Rosemary. It occurred to him that, if he hadn't erased his memory in the first place, he very well might have been incapable of loving her. But in the past year he had inadvertently allowed himself to do something he had never expected: to grow indescribably close to someone. And now he was left with two versions of himself. It was rather comforting in a way…that part that loved her _did_ have a grounding way of making him feel quite human, which was something that he had always struggled with prior to falling for her.

Although, it was also a tad disconcerting to feel as though he had been split into two halves. No, that would be a most profound understatement: in reality, it was entirely disconcerting. While he knew each of the halves quite well on their own, he didn't have the first clue who he truly was if they were to mix together. Unfortunately, if there was one thing that was certain in his mind, it was that they had, in fact, become irrevocably mixed. What this meant for his life (and Rosemary's place in it) had yet to be seen.

Tom wouldn't have worried over such things if he were the only one to worry about. But, the added uncertainty of Rosemary could not be ignored. He grappled with the possibility that she could one day ruin everything; opening himself to such vulnerability exposed that risk. By the time he realized this, he had already built her into his dreams of the life he envisioned for himself. The result was a paradox of simultaneously grasping for control while it dissolved in his hands like dust.

* * *

"_There are times when I worry that I've already lost myself. That is, that my self is so inseparable from being with you that if we were to separate, I would no longer be. I save this thought for when I feel the darkest discontent. I never meant to depend so much on someone else." ― David Levithan_

* * *

**Secrets revealed! Hurrah! And I finally got to use the little excerpt from the summary. :D **

**Just to clarify (because I know this part might have gotten a little wordy) - the diary is _not_ a Horcrux.**

**As always, thank you to my lovely reviewers (Mrs. TomMarvoloRiddle, A regrettable decision, AlishaCorral123, RosiePosie15, and CharlotteBlackwood)!**

**A LOT happened in this chapter, but don't worry, there's still plenty of drama on the way before Part I ends! Only one more chapter from Rose and we'll be back to the split POV set-up for a little while.(: **


	39. Part I - Lunch Date

Lunch Date

_August 21, 1944_

She turned the gleaming badge over in her palm several times before reading the accompanying letter:

_Dear Miss Horton,_

_I would like to congratulate you once more for your selection as Head Girl of Hogwarts. You have always been an exceptional student and, as Head of Ravenclaw House, I was pleased to see one of our own chosen for a second year in a row. I have no doubt that you will serve the school well. Please do not hesitate to write if you have any questions regarding the procedures you will explain to the Prefects on the Hogwarts Express, as it has been a few months since your training with Mr. Bryan and Miss Duprie. _

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Flannigan_

Even though Rosemary felt as though she had been well-suited to the role of Head Girl, she didn't know if she truly deserved her professor's praise. The letter seemed to paint her as the poster child of Ravenclaw and, although this was the persona she had sold to _all_ the professors at Hogwarts over the years, it wasn't necessarily genuine. If anyone was the true embodiment of Ravenclaw, it was someone like Muriel Finkley, Rose's mousy-haired classmate that always had her nose in a book and followed every single rule that had ever existed at Hogwarts. Rosemary merely played the part around anyone of authority and then cast aside all semblance of responsibility whenever she pleased. This trait made her a bit nervous to take on her new role, as she would be held to a much higher standard. Gone were the days of hosting parties in the Slytherin Common Room every weekend…Although, perhaps one or two a month wouldn't hurt…

Her mind drifted to Tom and she smiled at the thought of how excited he would be to receive his badge in the post that morning as well. It had been three weeks since her visit to his flat and, because her family had returned to Weybridge early that summer, she no longer had Markus around to send and receive their letters. But now that things had cleared up between them significantly, their inability to communicate didn't bother her. In just a week and a half, she would be away from her parents and back on the train to Hogwarts with him anyway.

After returning home after her visit with Tom, she realized that it could have gone much, much worse. It had been quite foolish for Rosemary to surprise him, even though she meant well. She also felt extraordinarily guilty for allowing her petty jealousy to govern her actions – she had been quite nasty with him, commenting about the flat that he was very clearly ashamed of. Given these snags in their encounter, it was actually quite miraculous that things had worked out so well for them. Their tempers which had been aggravated by the tension surrounding them could have won out, but they didn't. If anything, she felt that they were just as close as they had ever been.

Things were looking up in another way, too: her father hadn't set her up on a date (yet). Although, he _had_ continued to treat her like a criminal in their own home. In fact, now that they had returned from St. Ives, he had begun watching her even more carefully.

But perhaps there was an end to his overbearing behavior in sight: after weeks of the frost-bitten silence that had settled between them, Basil invited her to meet him for lunch.

The Comet Trading Company headquarters were situated on an expansive meadow outside of London. The fact that this international company and the vast building that housed it were in such a remote location might have looked strange to a visitor, but Rosemary had never given it a second thought. To her, it was simply obvious that the open space was necessary for test flying the new models. It wouldn't have been a stretch to say that, after all the time she had spent there as a child, Comet was essentially her second home (or perhaps her third, if she was counting their vacation house). And, although she wasn't a broom person per se, there were definitely perks to visiting the headquarters: she was treated like royalty, for one.

The pop that accompanied Rosemary as she Apparated to the front entrance of Comet turned a few heads in surprise. It wasn't exactly a noise that the employees were used to hearing at work – in fear of her father's disapproval, there were very of them who dared commuting in any other way than by broomstick. But, their looks of confusion quickly vanished as soon as they recognized her.

"Good morning, Miss Horton," several people greeted her as she strode inside and stopped at the front desk.

"Rosemary! It's so good to see you."

"Same to you, Holly," Rosemary smiled at the receptionist. "Do you happen to know if my father is ready to go to lunch?"

"He's been with the Experimental Models Division all morning," Holly told her apologetically before a look of confusion spread across her face. "I must have misunderstood. When he spoke to me earlier this morning, he informed me that you were coming here to meet someone for lunch, but he didn't mention that he'd be attending as well. I'll have to rearrange his meetings for this afternoon –"

_Oh no_.

Rosemary instantly understood exactly what this meant. Her father's invitation had not been an armistice; it had been a ploy. To send her on a date with someone.

She was in the process of coming up with an excuse to leave when Warren Cramer suddenly arrived at the front desk. "Long time no see, Miss Horton." He smiled. "Your father's finishing up a meeting with a potential investor, so he asked me to fetch you and show you some of our new projects while you're waiting."

She begrudgingly followed him down the hall, realizing that she had all but entirely forgotten that Warren had been working for Basil all summer as an intern.

"How's your summer been?" he asked her.

"Good," she lied. At least it wasn't a complete lie – the part where she had been in Paris for the Tournament had been quite extraordinary.

"And Tom's doing well, I'm sure?"

Her instant reaction was to give him a dirty look for asking. She quickly caught herself, though, remembering that there was no way that Warren knew about the situation between Tom and her parents. Basil would be far too mortified to admit that his daughter was dating a half-blood.

Unfortunately, she hadn't wiped away the look quite fast enough: "What?" he asked. "Even I read _The Daily Prophet_…"

"Oh, yes, of course. I'm very proud of him."

"It was quite an accomplishment, I have to admit. Although, if you ask me, Quidditch is much more dangerous…but I suppose I'm also a bit biased." Warren winked at her playfully.

Rosemary rolled her eyes. If there was one thing she had learned after Tom had exposed her to the world of dueling, it was that there was a sizable rivalry of manliness between those who played Quidditch and those who dueled. "You _did_ read about how he was eliminated, right? He almost lost an arm…"

Warren shrugged her off. "Nothing a few potions and a Healer couldn't fix."

After walking through several corridors, they finally reached the doors that led to the Experimental Models Division. Warren muttered the password and brought her inside. "We've been working on a few new projects this summer…" He strode over to one of the room's many Storm-Boxes, in which a broom was suspended in mid-air. As she admittedly wasn't much of a broom person, the Storm-Boxes were one of Rosemary's favorite things to see when she visited Comet. They were enormous glass cases that were designed to test a broomstick's durability in the elements by alternating between various weather patterns: snow, ice, extreme heat, and thunderstorms (her personal favorite).

"There have been a few complaints that the latest model's handle splinters too easily, so we're testing out a new charmed protective coating that should be a bit more durable."

Rosemary stared at the dark storm that raged on inside the glass. "So, who's this new investor?" she finally asked him quietly.

She was puzzled when she didn't hear Warren respond and was about to turn and look at him when she heard her father's voice behind her. "Rosemary, I trust you remember Gil Pollack, as he was formerly your Ministry of Magic Apparition Instructor?"

Rose spun around. Apparently, she had been staring at the Storm-Box longer than she thought. Warren was no longer standing where he had been before: he was now busy at work, scribbling something on a clipboard about twenty meters away. Her father and Gil had even come in without her hearing.

_He_, of all people, was the investor? She knew that the Ministry of Magic didn't pay_ that_ well. "Of course," she said in the most pleasant voice she could manage.

It took every ounce of willpower she had not to cringe as Gil kissed the top of her hand. By the rather creepy way he was looking at her, she suspected that he had been in on Basil's plan from the beginning.

"My apologies, dear," started her father, "But I'm afraid I'm much too busy with work and will have to cancel our plans…However, Gil has graciously offered to –"

_No. _This could not happen. Going out with Gil would be nothing short of humiliating and she couldn't even imagine how furious Tom would be when he found out. In sheer panic, she glanced at Warren and then back to her father and Gil once more before the words tumbled out of her mouth: "That's quite alright – Warren just invited me for lunch, actually. I was just about to ask you if we could go another time."

Once again she looked at Warren (who looked rightfully confused) and then her father, who also looked rather confused. Rosemary held her breath, praying that Warren would go along with it and that Basil would give his approval. She wasn't naïve enough to think that her father was so thick that he wouldn't be at least a little suspicions that she was simply trying to get out of lunch with Gil. But, in his mind, Warren was probably just as good for her (if not better, given his much more fervent interest in Quidditch). And when it came down to it, whoever she was going to lunch with didn't really matter as long as it wasn't Tom.

"Well, I suppose that's alright," Basil said finally as Rosemary exhaled. Warren had thankfully stayed silent the entire time and so had Gil. In a way, he was forced to – it would have been seen as extraordinarily rude of him to question the word of her father.

As she and Warren left for lunch, Rosemary couldn't help but feel strangely appreciative of the way Basil had handled the situation. He could have forced her to go out with Gil, but he had clearly seen that she had been interested in going with Warren instead. This wouldn't have been significant if Gil wasn't an investor, as there was a good chance that going to lunch with him would have solidified his interest in putting money into the company. But, as painful as it was for her to admit it, that was how her father was: he _did_ value her happiness more than another thousand Galleons...

It made her feel just a tad sentimental until she remembered that he was the entire reason she was in this situation in the first place. Although he might value her happiness more than money, he didn't value it more than his beliefs on blood (or, more precisely, his grudges from the past).

Rosemary and Warren said nothing to each other as they walked to the nearest town and into its only restaurant. Finally, when she could no longer take the silence, she said nonchalantly: "So, how has your internship gone? You can tell me the truth; I won't tell my father," she smirked.

She had hoped that he might let the whole thing go without asking any questions, but she should have known better. "What happened back there?" he asked her, ignoring her attempt to keep the conversation away form that very topic.

"Nothing…I just thought it would be nice to go to lunch with you instead of Mr. Pollack," she told him.

"It looked like your father was trying to set you up with him," he commented flatly.

Rosemary hesitated for a long time; while she _did_ owe him an explanation, Tom certainly wouldn't be pleased that yet another person knew about their uncomfortable state of affairs. After a rather lengthy internal debate, she sighed. "There's a reason. Do you promise you won't tell anyone?"

Warren nodded.

"Well, long story short, my father doesn't approve of Tom…so he's trying to marry me off to someone else before I graduate from Hogwarts."

His light green eyes widened. "What? Why doesn't he approve of the amazing Tom Riddle?"

Rosemary noticed a bit of sarcasm in the way he had said the word 'amazing' but chose to ignore it. There were more pressing matters, after all. "I'd rather not discuss it," she told him.

"I see...Well, I'm sorry to hear your going through that. What are you going to do, though? You can't get out of dates with Gil or whoever else he comes up with forever…"

She sighed, resting her forehead in her hands. "I don't know."

But she _did_ know that she desperately needed to figure something out. The fact that her father had gone so far as to trick her into a lunch date meant that he was beginning to get serious about setting her up with someone. She also knew that her mother's hesitation could only buy her so much time.

Unfortunately, all the solutions that had come to mind over the last few weeks sounded absolutely mad and required a drastic measure of some sort. Except for one: the one that she hadn't even thought of since she had suggested it to Markus and he promptly shot it down. The one that, in her mind, was the only way she could guarantee that her parents would leave her be until she graduated from Hogwarts.

But, without Markus, it obviously wouldn't work…Unless…

"You'll think I've gone mad for suggesting this…" Rosemary hesitated with a bit of disbelief of the words that were coming out of her own mouth, "But what would you say if I asked you to pretend to date me?"

Warren leaned forward in his chair and raised an eyebrow at her. "I'd say that you have, indeed, gone mental."

"We'd just convince my parents we're in love, eventually tell them we're engaged and set to be married after school ends, and then we'll go our separate ways. It's the only way I can think of to get my father to leave things alone…I know it's an enormous favor to ask…" It was then when she fully realized just how large of a favor it really was and she stopped herself. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

Warren looked at her for a long time and she felt herself turn bright red in embarrassment for suggesting such a thing. "I'll do it," he abruptly told her.

She didn't even try to hide the look of pure shock on her face. "_Really_?"

"Of course. I owe you a favor for putting in a good word for me to your father when I was applying for my internship." He said it as though this sort of favor was equivalent to something like allowing her to borrow his notes after missing class. She was too dumbfounded to respond and he must have known it because he continued: "It's not as though pretending to date you wouldn't come with a few perks for me as well. It might just help me land a job after graduation…as long your parents don't suspect that I was in on the entire thing, of course."

"They wouldn't. I'd make sure of it," she told him quickly.

"I'm surprised," Warren said suddenly with a grin, "Most of the girls in our year would have thrown themselves at a chance for a date with Gil Pollack. Especially now that he's rich…thanks to his late uncle."

Ah. So that was where his sudden influx of funds had come from.

"He's vile," she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "He thought he was so important just because he was sent from the Ministry."

What Warren had said was true, though; she could only imagine how appalled Loretta would have been with her for turning down Gil's offer.

But in reality, Gil was the furthest thing from her mind. Her plan had solidified before she even had a chance to fully process what had happened. Although it clearly hadn't been a plan so much as a thoughtless impulse.

There were a few things that she realized instantly: for one, she knew that it would work. Not because she was confident in her ability to lie (at least not to her father), but because it _had_ _to_. Rose had convinced herself that, unless Tom had recently thought of some other way around her family, this was truly the only viable option.

She also knew Tom wouldn't like it – obviously – but he would get over it. Eventually. Again, it wasn't as though _he_ had thought of any sort of plan to get them out of the mess they were in. And the fact that she was pretending to be Warren's girlfriend to placate her parents would surely be less bothersome to him than if she were to get married off to Gil or someone that was even worse. They would be back at Hogwarts quite soon anyway, where there would be no need to pretend: as long as her parents weren't around, Rose and Tom were completely free to be together.

Still, even though she was increasingly sure with each passing moment that she had made the best possible decision, she couldn't help but dread the moment that she had to inform Tom. Perhaps it was for the best that they couldn't write each other again before school started.

* * *

"_So she became impulsive, scared by her inaction into perpetual action." – John Green_

* * *

**Bet you can't wait until she finally tells Tom.(; That will be a fun ride...**

**Thank you soo very much to those of you who reviewed: AlishaCorral123, A regrettable decision, CharlotteBlackwood, RosiePosie15, MusicOfMyMind, Lucy Greenhill, two Guest users, How910, and destinykate! Thanks as well to those who have favorited/followed!**

**Sorry for the delay on the update...things were busier than I had anticipated this weekend. But I'm already starting on Chapter 40, so you should see it within a couple of days! At the end of next chapter I'll also be posting some more info about that little contest I mentioned.(:**

**Thanks for reading!**


	40. Part I - For the Greater Good

For the Greater Good

_August 25, 1944_

It had occurred to her that this night would have been nearly identical to the night when Tom had first met her parents if things had simply gone the way they were supposed to from the beginning. They had eaten dinner and carried on a perfectly pleasant conversation, Basil had shown Warren his combined office and trophy room, and they had finished the night with a cocktail in the gardens. There had been no yelling, no shattered glass, and no late night reunion.

In fact, Rosemary had grown so used to the chaos of her life with Tom that such an uneventful night almost bored her.

Although, predictably, her parents loved it. Evelyn, who had met Warren once or twice after the Hogwarts Quidditch games that Basil constantly dragged her to, asked him dozens of questions about himself and her father talked Quidditch and Comet with him. Rose tried to keep up with the conversation as it probably would have made their deceit more convincing, but her mind was constantly being pulled in another direction: how on earth was she going to tell Tom? She had to figure it out soon – she would see him again in less than a week's time, after all.

What was worse, perhaps, was the fact that she knew she wouldn't be able to tell him on the train. No, this was something that required much more privacy than the Hogwarts Express would afford them…which meant she would have to pretend that nothing was off between them the entire train ride, all through dinner, and while they completed their post-dinner Head Boy and Girl duties. He had always been so good at reading her – how could she even hope to hide something so significant from him for that long?

Finally, Warren announced that he should be getting home and Rosemary led him to the front door along with her parents. He thanked them politely for dinner, but instead of turning to leave as she then expected, he placed a kiss on her right cheek.

"He's such a nice boy – quite well-mannered, too," her mother said later as she and Rose had another round of cocktails in the sitting room. "And my goodness is he handsome…"

Rosemary nodded. "It's hard to believe that he was there in front of me all along and I didn't even take the time to notice…I rarely think of Tom anymore." It was becoming easier and easier for her to lie.

"Well I'm glad that things worked out for the best," Evelyn said. Then, as she sipped her martini she added: "He seems quite fond of you, as well. I could see it in his eyes – it was so obvious."

Apparently Warren was an even better actor than Rosemary had originally given him credit for.

"Do you think Father approves of him?"

Evelyn snorted in amusement. "Of course. His favorite Quidditch team is the Falmouth Falcons and he works at Comet. Not to mention the fact that he comes from a very well-respected family."

Well, at least this meant there was one less thing for Rosemary to worry about. She finished her drink, told her mother goodnight, and was on her way to her room when she heard her father call her name as she walked by his study.

"Come here," he told her. There was a strange tone to his voice that she couldn't quite place. "And close the door behind you."

She did as she was told and crossed the room, taking a seat in the black leather armchair that was across the coffee table from his. Rosemary looked at him expectantly, but he just stared at her with a calm, unreadable expression on his face. The seconds that passed began to feel like years and she was tempted to say something and break the silence, but didn't trust herself to say something that wouldn't look immediately suspicious and unravel the plan she had so carefully spun.

Finally, her father said quietly: "Warren is a good lad."

She nodded cautiously, given the fact that she was unsure where this conversation would be headed.

"It would be a shame if he had his heart broken for no good reason," Basil said, looking into her eyes. "I might lose one of the most promising, up-and-coming employees I've seen in years. Surely, if things didn't work out between the two of you, he would be too uncomfortable to stay at Comet…"

"There's no need to worry." She gave him a small smile.

"Rosemary," Basil started, his voice suddenly turning quite sharp, "Why should I believe even a single thing that you tell your mother or I? Your word means absolutely _nothing_ now."

She wished it didn't hurt to hear him say such a thing, but it did.

"The worst thing of all this is that you've lost our trust and you don't seem to care," he continued. "And if I find out that you're simply using Warren, I want you to know that you'll completely lose my respect. There are few things more dishonorable than using people."

It was quite tempting in that moment to come out and tell him the truth of it all, but she kept telling herself that she _had_ to be strong. Besides, she had assumed that her father would lose respect for her when he found out…she just hadn't expected him to threaten her with it outright. Nor had she expected such an overwhelming feeling of guilt. Rose couldn't help but wonder if she truly had it in her to follow through with the new plan…

"So, seeing as I can't trust your word, I've spoken to a few professors at Hogwarts. They've agreed to keep an eye on you and make sure you're nowhere near _him_."

Rosemary's pulse quickened in dread. "He's Head Boy…we're going to be working together quite a bit this year."

"Well, then I suppose you'd best hope that you can keep things professional." Basil's eyes grew dark in a way she had never seen before.

"I know my words don't mean anything to you, but I swear I'm with Warren now…Tom is nothing to me."

"Then you have nothing to worry about," her father said. "It's merely a precaution."

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

So much for her plan. As if she wasn't nervous enough to tell Tom before, she now had to tell him that she not only had to pretend to date Warren in front of her parents, they had to pretend to the entire school.

"You may think that I'm going to a bit of an extreme, but this isn't just about our views of blood status any longer." Her father paused and looked down at his hands. "You've heard about Grindelwald in the papers, I trust? His efforts 'For the Greater Good'?"

Rosemary nodded.

"Well I'm certain it would prove to be a grave mistake to taint your blood status if he is to be successful. He plans to enslave the Muggles, you know…And anyone who is not a pureblood will be considered one step closer to them. I'd worry for your safety."

She wondered how much of this was actually true. Would she really be persecuted even though she was technically a pureblood? And what would persecution mean – would Tom be unable to get the job he deserved? Would they be exiled from certain parts of the wizarding world? Or was her father simply overreacting?

Even if he was, she couldn't ignore the fact that he seemed so genuinely concerned. Once again, she found herself at a crossroads in her thinking: would choosing Tom make her as incredibly happy as she envisioned it would or would she regret it for the rest of her natural life?

"If something happened to you because you were young and stupid enough to choose him…" Basil trailed off and for the first time in Rosemary's life she saw tears shining on his hazel eyes. It was so startling and triggered her guilt so profoundly that she too was soon fighting the urge to cry. For the first time in months she felt genuinely close to her father. Then, her father suddenly regained his composure, sitting up straight and clearing his throat. "I swear on Merlin's grave that I will not allow that to happen. You _will_ marry Warren Cramer and that's the end of it."

* * *

In lieu of Rosemary, Tom's diary had become his closest friend. He realized that the fact he was essentially talking to himself probably made him a bit of a loon, but there was also something to be said for feeling completely understood. Well, perhaps not completely. That was the interesting thing – sometimes there was some overlap, but usually the parts that Rosemary seemed to understand about him contrasted sharply with his past self's understanding. This was to be expected, of course, given the fact that she didn't have the first clue about his past and his memory didn't have the first clue about his present...But it was rather nice to feel as though he would be understood by someone (even if it was himself…) no matter which side of his mind he chose to reveal.

It was also frustrating at times. When he had explained his relationship with Rose to his former self, the response had been:

_Well isn't that nice. Now, how exactly is she useful to you? _

Whenever Tom tried to explain anything about her, this was inevitably where the conversation went. The diary seemed unable to comprehend the fact that he would bother to have anyone in his life that wasn't being directly useful somehow.

But the truth of the matter was that Tom _did_ find her useful and worthwhile to have around. She brought him such a sublime feeling of ease and his memory just couldn't understand as it had never experienced such a thing before.

Sometimes they quarreled like brothers, eventually agreeing to disagree.

Of course, they didn't only talk about Rosemary. After one lengthy discussion with himself in the form of his diary, Tom had decided to set up a meeting with the Minister for Magic. It was something he had been meaning to do for a while, ever since he had returned to London from the Tournament, but had gotten too caught up in his less-than-ideal circumstances with Rose's family to do much of anything besides focus on work.

In just the few weeks since he had last seen her, so much had changed. His focus and drive had been renewed, thankfully. And, at least to his knowledge, all of his memories had been fully recovered. Tom felt invigorated, ready to return to Hogwarts and take on the role of Head Boy that he so deserved. There was a new sense of confidence that had washed over him as well: he now trusted himself to come up with a legitimate plot that would allow he and Rose to be together once and for all...it just hadn't come to him quite yet.

But he was sure that it would – and soon. There would be no more surprises when it came to her parents (or anyone else for that matter); he would no longer feel as though he was always one step behind. _He _would be in control. All thanks to a little talent by the name of Legilimency.

It turned out that he had already been looking into Legilimency before erasing his memory and, thanks to his previous lack of a distraction, his fifth-year self had been become quite proficient at it. A little less than a week was all it had taken to regain his former progress. And now? He was damn good at it.

Tom had tested it on Mr. Burke a few days prior, scanning his thought processes and memories. That part was easy; the real trick was to do so without the person's knowledge of it. Tom knew just how far he had come when the older wizard gave no indication of knowing what had just happened to him.

Of course, he had to be careful; if Burke had been a better wizard he might have known exactly what Tom was doing. He knew he had to keep himself in check to some degree, but it was difficult – it truly _was_ quite fascinating to have access to every single (though usually inane) thought that passed through someone's mind. Obviously it was exceptionally violating, but the only person he actually felt conflicted about potentially performing it on was Rose. As tempting as it may be he believed that he simply would never be capable of degrading her so momentously.

The Minister for Magic, though? Well, he was another story entirely.

While Tom had been rather interested in politics for several years, he also had a rather conflicting disrespect for nearly everyone that worked at the Ministry. Considering the fact that it was so terribly inefficient (almost laughably so), how could he not? He had learned quite early on that very little actually got done. Even so, the Ministry had one thing that the public so clearly did not: information.

Tom arrived at the Ministry about twenty minutes before his appointment, but the receptionist led him into the Minister's office right away anyway. This came as a bit of a surprise – now that the looming threat of Grindelwald was public knowledge, he would have expected Minister Spencer-Moon to be a bit busier.

Then again, he _was _a now-famous Tournament competitor. So perhaps the fact that the Minister had made time for him was really not that surprising after all.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Riddle," he said as they shook hands. He gestured for him to sit in the chair across from his large mahogany desk and Tom did. "Are you ready to return to school? Your final year, isn't it? I thought I had seen somewhere that you had been made Head Boy."

Tom nodded and attempted to look modest as Spencer-Moon congratulated him.

"Well, Hogwarts is certainly in for a few changes this year," the Minister said slowly. "It's very important that the school remains a safe place, even in the dark times that are upon us."

"What sort of changes?"

Spencer-Moon hesitated. "Well, I really shouldn't be saying anything…but as Head Boy you'll be one of the first to know anyways…"

"Know what?" Tom prodded again, though he was somewhat dreading to hear what these daft bureaucrats were planning on putting Hogwarts through.

"Well not everything has been decided yet," the Minister said, clearly attempting to sound nonchalant. "But I have placed one of my most trusted friends in charge of safety for the school."

"Who?"

"Professor Dumbledore."

Tom had to keep himself from curling his lip in disgust; just hearing the wizard's name left a bad taste in his mouth. "I see. Why not Headmaster Dippet?"

"Albus knows considerably more about what is going on in terms of this blasted revolution effort than Dippet. Anyway, I should hold my tongue and allow him inform you of the policies he is planning on enforcing at Hogwarts this upcoming term. I'm sure he'll be working quite closely with you and the Head Girl to ensure that things continue to run smoothly."

Well _that_ certainly sounded as though it would be excruciatingly irritating.

For the remainder of the meeting, Tom attempted with little success to rid his mind of the disappointment that had come with the Minister's news regarding Hogwarts. This was supposed to be_ his_ year. This was supposed to be the year when he didn't have to worry at all about meddling, overbearing professors and could do just about anything he pleased at his every whim. Now, Dumbledore would be on his case _constantly: _surely even more so than before.

But, before he left, he had to pose this question…the one that would utilize his newfound Legilimency talents: "Sir, if I could have your honest, confidential opinion, do you believe Grindelwald will be successful in his efforts?"

"Of course not," Spencer-Moon said with a seemingly uncaring wave of his hand. "It's only a matter of time before our Aurors track him down."

Tom had expected him to say something along these lines, which was why he wanted to use a further measure to validate the answer. While it was too risky to perform a full Legilimency on the Minister for Magic (given that the practice was very tightly regulated and considered illegal in Tom's case), he at least trusted himself to look at the forefront of the man's mind. As he had just prompted the Minister with a question on the subject, his answers were easily within his reach without fear of being discovered.

What he saw was that the Minister lied. Although in reality, Tom hadn't really needed to perform Legilimency to know this. For the second time that morning, he felt a sinking disappointment mixed with a trace of dread. Spencer-Moon could have been overreacting to the threat of Grindelwald, but Tom saw him as a quite rational person (well, considerably, at least – he didn't know how rational one could actually be if they trusted Dumbledore and held him in such high regard) which made him believe that his concern was at least somewhat based in reality.

Tom left the Ministry, feeling rather troubled after his meeting. The looming threat of Grindelwald clearly meant change to both Hogwarts and the wizarding world – essentially everything he had ever known – and Tom did _not_ like change. Unless it was on his own terms, of course. He briefly wondered if he shouldn't just leave it all behind and live instead in some remote location; he might be miserable, but he didn't know if he was genuinely capable of living in a place where muggles had anything to do with the wizarding race (even if they were enslaved).

Then there was the issue of Rosemary, though: he couldn't just leave her behind of course. At least if he brought her with, they certainly wouldn't have to worry about her parents any longer…That sounded quite nice actually. Just he and Rose: no more distractions or irritating people. But he also couldn't even imagine how bored he would be.

At any rate, it was perhaps a bit premature to be thinking such things. Grindelwald hadn't actually been successful…yet.

In an attempt to stop dwelling over such things, he made a quick stop at Gringotts to access the vault that he had opened the summer prior. It was completely empty, except for the ring and about a hundred Galleons which he had taken from his uncle Morfin's house. He slipped the gold ring onto his middle finger, admiring for a moment the black stone that it was set with. From that moment on, it would serve as a reminder of the admirable deed he had done for himself: ridding the world of any trace of his repulsive muggle relatives.

Tom left Gringotts and started on his way home for the night. As he turned the corner and walked down the backstreet that led to Knockturn Alley, he passed by several shadowy, cloaked figures. He didn't think much of it (cloaked figures in Knockturn Alley were not necessarily a rarity), until someone grabbed his arm and he was suddenly being Apparated.

The next thing he knew, he was in a forest somewhere and there were perhaps ten or twelve nearly identical-looking cloaked figures standing around him in a circle, wands raised. Tom went to reach for his own wand, but realized it had been lifted off of him.

He wasn't stupid enough to be afraid. It was clear that they wanted something – it wasn't as though he had been brought here just to be murdered. But what? This all seemed a little overkill for a mugging and the only potentially valuable thing he was even carrying was the ring, which was still wrapped around his finger.

"You're Tom Riddle," one of them said finally.

"Yes," he responded with a trace of annoyance in his voice. He was already growing impatient with this nonsense.

Thankfully, they got right to it: "With your upcoming role as Head Boy of Hogwarts, your participation in the Continental Wizarding Dueling Tournament, and your connection to the Minister for Magic, our leader believes you would make a valuable asset to our efforts."

He wasn't exactly surprised. In fact, he had begun to wonder when this exact moment would occur. "Well, you can tell your leader that I'm not interested."

The circle was quiet for a couple of seconds before the same wizard spoke again. "Very well…However, you should give it a bit more thought."

Tom let out a small laugh. "There's no reason to. Your cause is laughable at best…Dealing with muggles 'for the greater good'? I've never heard something so ridiculous."

"Give it a bit more thought," the wizard repeated, stepping toward him. "Things will change drastically once we've succeeded and you should ensure that you're on our side…_half-blood_." He practically spit the final word before tossing Tom's wand on the ground next to his feet.

Tom stared at him for a few moments, his rage boiling to the surface…how in the hell had they even known he was a half-blood? Then he dove for his wand, ready to do something drastic and take out his fresh anger on them, but they had Disapparated before he had even touched it.

Although he could barely admit it to himself, he was beginning to feel the itch of panic crawling beneath his skin. He knew it was true that, if Grindelwald was successful, there was no possible way he could even hope to be equal to the pure-blood class that he so genuinely deserved to belong to. And judging from the Minister's reaction earlier that day, the success of the revolution effort no longer seemed unrealistic.

It was then when he knew that, no matter the cost, he had to bring down Gellert Grindelwald.

* * *

"_If you don't like how the table is set, turn over the table." – Beau Willimon_

* * *

**A big thank you to Mrs. TomMarvoloRiddle, CharlotteBlackwood, A regrettable decision, How910, and RosiePosie15 for your reviews!**

**Remember that contest thing that I mentioned? More details, here! So, first off, like I said before: if you've submitted 5 or more reviews for this story, you'll be entered in the drawing. Basically, for every 5 you submit, you'll get another entry (ex. if someone has written 20 reviews, they will get their names in the drawing 4 times - sort of like buying raffle tickets). I've also decided on the prizes! There will be two people that will win a spoiler and one that will win an early pre****view of Part II!**

**Again, I'm not trying to be annoying or pressure any of you into reviewing (although I do LOVE the feedback), I just want to thank those of you that regularly do because you are sooo appreciated!**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! In the next one, Rose and Tom will be on their way back to Hogwarts. :D 10 more chapters until the end of Part I!**


	41. Part I - The Backpfeifengesicht

The Backpfeifengesicht

_September 1, 1944_

When it was Rosemary's turn to speak, she had managed to sound confident at least, but her tone was clearly deficient in whatever made Tom such a great speaker. To be fair, she _was_ a bit distracted by her attempts to avoid any and all eye contact with Warren.

Finally, Tom moved on to the next topic, putting an end to her need to focus. She stood beside him, admiring in pride the way he spoke to the Prefects so effectively. The way the younger, fifth and sixth-year Prefects looked at him was nothing short of pure veneration. There were a few exceptions, of course – primarily Gryffindor students. For the second time since they had been together (the first time being at the Tournament), she realized that Tom was completely in his element. What this element was exactly she wasn't sure – being a leader, perhaps?

At any rate, the fact that Tom was in a perfectly splendid mood made things so much more difficult. As soon as they finished the duties for the day she would have to tell him about Warren, a subject that would most definitely ruin his mood. She glanced at a nearby clock: only twelve hours until she would tell him…if her guilt didn't kill her first.

They dismissed the Prefects from the compartment and soon they were alone. Rosemary wished she could have enjoyed this brief moment of privacy with him after a month and a half without seeing each other except for the one time she had visited his flat, but it only made her guilt worse. She needed to get out of there – _soon_ – before she broke down and told him right then and there. "We should begin our rounds," she told him.

He looked down at her and smirked. "In a moment," he said before pulling her close and putting his arms around her. "I'm so glad we're finally going back to Hogwarts…"

"Me too." And she was; it would be infinitely better than being held prisoner in her own home by her parents.

"Things will be just as they were before," he said, gently kissing the top of her head.

His tenderness struck her. She wasn't used to him consoling her – usually it was she who consoled him because of his quick temper. It was then that Rosemary realized it had been so long since she had seen this sweetness in him: completely loving, untainted by any trace of stress or irritation. For the first time in so long, he seemed genuinely hopeful. And there was no way around the fact that, later that night, all of it would be destroyed.

She shifted her head so he couldn't see the tears that had suddenly arrived in her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek as hard as she could when he ran a hand through her hair to keep more of them from coming.

Tom ran his hand through her hair a couple of times before he tilted her chin up towards him and kissed her softly. Thankfully she had regained her composure somewhat before he did so, quickly ridding herself of any residual traces of tears.

"I'll see you later," he smiled at her before they left the compartment.

Well, if there wasn't a real threat of guilt eating her alive earlier, there certainly was now.

She started off in the opposite direction of Tom, checking in at nearly every compartment to keep the troublemakers (which were most frequently Gryffindor or Slytherin students) at bay. In less than an hour's time, Rose dealt with a group of Slytherin fourth years that were picking on a few Hufflepuff second years, helped a first year find her cat (only to realize it had chased and killed another first year's rat), and put out a fire that an accident-prone Gryffindor had started. Being Head Girl was rather exhausting, really.

Rosemary was almost finished with her rounds when a compartment door slid open on her right and Warren appeared. His compartment was crowded with at least half of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. "Well, hello…dear," he said with a smirk.

She forced a smile and gave a friendly wave to her fellow Ravenclaws, who were suddenly watching them in fascination. By the time she realized in a panic exactly what their expectations were, it was already happening: Warren leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

She pulled away after less than a second, jerking her head to her right to make sure that Tom was nowhere in sight. A breath of relief filled her lungs when she realized that no one had seen them from that side…But as she turned her head to the left it was another story entirely: there, about ten compartments away, Faye and Adam stood in the hall, mouths agape and eyes widened.

_Oh, fucking hell._

Rose pulled Warren out of his compartment and into the next which was miraculously empty. She drew her wand and pointed it at the blinds. As soon as they descended into place and no one could see inside the compartment, she promptly smacked him on the arm. "What in the hell was that?" she demanded.

He first eyed at the spot on his arm where she had hit him in amusement before meeting her eyes with confusion. "I thought we had to pretend at school, too?"

"Well this isn't school, in case you haven't noticed," Rosemary snapped.

"I'm sorry…I just thought that was what everyone expected from us," Warren ran a hand through his hair and looked at her in such an apologetic way that it made her feel terrible for acting so harshly toward him. After all, he _was _the one doing her a favor.

"Tom doesn't know yet," she said quietly.

His eyes widened. "_What?_"

"I haven't gotten the chance to tell him. We haven't written for weeks."

"I thought you already talked to him about it before asking me." Warren sighed.

She shook her head and stood to leave, knowing that she had to find Faye and the others and explain before things got out of control. "I will tonight."

Without another word, Rose swiftly left the compartment and started down the hall toward the one that she had seen Faye and Adam slip into. When she reached it, Faye, Adam, Markus, and Rebecca had their heads bent in a circle, gossiping furiously. She slid the door open, stepped inside, closed it behind her, and cleared her throat slightly before saying: "I can explain."

Suddenly, everyone was speaking at once:

"Like hell you can!" Faye gave her a look that strongly resembled disgust.

Markus slowly shook his head at her. "What exactly are you playing at, Rosemary?!"

"Riddle's going to lose the plot when he finds out…" Adam pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, as though the entire ordeal had given him a headache.

Rebecca shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Rosemary sighed and sat down next to Faye. "Just listen, alright? There _is_ an explanation…I've been meaning to tell you all…"

"And just what is this grand explanation?" Faye rolled her eyes. "You're just giving in to your parents' wishes after everything?"

"_No,_" she said sharply. "Warren's my cover-up, so to speak…It's the only way I could think of to keep my parents off our backs until we graduate."

"Can't you just pretend around your parents, then?"

She shook her head. "Apparently, my father has asked a few professors to keep an eye on me this year to ensure that Tom and I are no longer romantically involved."

"Good to know Basil's gone completely mental," Markus smirked.

"And Tom is actually okay with this?" Faye asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"I haven't told him yet…It's not as though we've been able to write…" She looked down at the hem of her skirt.

"Oh, Rose…." Faye shook her head.

"He's going to kill him," Adam said plainly.

"And Emily's going to kill _you_," Faye pointed out.

Yet another flood of guilt overcame her when she realized she hadn't even thought once about Emily or her feelings on the matter. Springer had been stuck on Warren for so long – how on earth would she ever forgive Rosemary?

"I'm sure you're all overreacting…I'm sure Tom will understand," Rebecca suddenly chimed in. Rose wasn't surprised to any degree that the Slytherin girl had sided with her – this had been their dynamic since they had "made-up" months ago. To that day, she was still attempting to win Rosemary's approval.

Markus sighed. "No, love…you don't know what you're talking about." His tone toward her was exceptionally condescending and Rosemary suddenly remembered that Markus used to speak to her in quite the same way when they were still dating. It made her appreciate Tom even more than she already did – even though his temper made him a bit hard to handle at times, at least she knew that he respected her.

"Yeah, Riddle _hates_ Cramer," Adam nodded in agreement.

"No he doesn't." Rosemary rolled her eyes. Sure, he had shown a few symptoms of jealousy once or twice when she had spoken to Warren, but it seemed as though that had only happened when he was upset about something else already anyway.

"Yes, he really does," Adam smirked. "During every Quidditch match Slytherin played against Ravenclaw last year, I saw him giving Cramer the dirtiest looks I've ever seen him give anyone…And that's saying something."

Rosemary hoped that they were simply overreacting, but the pit in her stomach told her otherwise. "Well, he'll just have to get over it," she said resolutely.

"Well, Emily won't. She might off herself when she finds out," Faye said bluntly. "Why does it have to be Warren? You could have asked literally _anyone _else."

"Not really…it's not as though I can trust just anyone with this. And _someone_ already turned down the idea," she said, looking pointedly at Markus.

"Way to be a right git, Markus!" Faye glared at him.

Adam sighed. "Riddle might have actually gone for that…"

Markus looked to Rebecca for defense and she shrugged. "It really would have been a lot more convincing to Rose's parents and everyone else…"

"Oh, come on!" he cried, "Like _I _wanted to chance being in Riddle's warpath? Thanks anyway..."

"You're all exaggerating." Rosemary rolled her eyes. "Just what do you think he's going to do?"

There was an uncomfortable moment in which the compartment fell silent and everyone averted their gazes from her.

What the fuck was that? Why did they seem to suddenly know more about Tom than she did?

Well, they must have been mistaken, she thought: because she knew him better than anyone.

* * *

_"Guilt is a useless feeling. It's never enough to make you change direction-only enough to make you useless." ― Daniel Nayeri_

* * *

Now that they were on their way back to Hogwarts, Tom was feeling exceptionally optimistic once more. It was surprising, considering the looming dilemma that Professor Dumbledore would be breathing down his neck for the entire year. But perhaps even this wouldn't be as bad as he had expected – he had only received one letter from the professor in regard to the heightened security measures at Hogwarts. He thought that he and Rosemary would have been shuffled off to Dumbledore's office before the Sorting ceremony began, but this dreaded encounter never materialized.

And, at least for the moment, the new measures were only minimally irritating: curfew was to be a half hour earlier, there would be one or two fewer Hogsmeade visits, and the Prefects had to increase their patrols by a couple of hours each week. He hoped that all this would be the worst of it.

Tom also truly wished that the solitary letter would be the extent of his contact with the aged fool this year even though this was highly unrealistic, considering the fact that he was enrolled in seventh-year Transfiguration.

The Sorting ceremony dragged on, and he clapped indifferently for each new student that was sorted into Slytherin or Ravenclaw. Lestrange was sitting in the seat next to him, across from Avery, and he couldn't help but notice that the two of them were acting a bit odd. For once in their lives they had refrained from bothering him with their pestering questions about himself, which was fortunate because he rarely possessed the energy to act as though he was actually friends with them.

But it wasn't only that. They were quiet, too – a phenomenon that was rather far from the norm for the two of them. Tom found himself wondering if perhaps they had finally matured over the summer. He hoped this was the case, as he knew he may need to use them in the coming months while he developed and implemented his plan to bring down Grindelwald. But this was a bit of a stretch. What was more likely was that they had bickered about something trivial like Quidditch and were now annoyed with each other. Quite frankly, the fact that the two of them were acting a bit off didn't faze him in the slightest.

Rosemary, however, had also been acting rather odd; she seemed much more reserved than he had expected, given her new powers as Head Girl and the fact that they were reunited once more. In fact, she had barely seemed excited to see him at all. This might have troubled him more, but he assumed that she was simply in the process of recovering from everything her parents had put her through that summer. All of the ups-and-downs were probably rather traumatizing for her – and understandably so. But clearly her father was not as obstinate in setting her up on dates as she had initially believed: Tom was convinced that Basil had folded and that Rose and he would make it until the end of the year without another snag. Perhaps this was just taking a bit longer for her to realize. Or, perhaps this guess was entirely off and instead she was merely nervous about her new role as Head Girl.

At any rate, he trusted that she would snap out of it. After the Sorting ceremony concluded and they finished their duties as Head Boy and Girl, he would give her a taste of just how magnificent the coming year would be. There rooms were, after all, directly across the hallway from each other. And, more importantly, free of dormmates.

His train of thought trailed off and was replaced with fantasies of what he might do to her later that evening. It had been much too long since he had last felt her body against his and explored all of those splendid, secret places that only he was allowed to see. He had certainly missed how soft her skin felt beneath his fingertips, the sensual moans he could so easily force her to emit, and the way that she squirmed when he touched her just right. And then, of course, was the way that she touched him…

He peered across the Great Hall in an attempt to spot her and her unique shade of red hair quickly caught his eye. Faye was sitting across from her and, to Tom's displeasure, Cramer was to her left. He couldn't help but wonder: was it just him, or was Cramer sitting exceptionally close to her?

Tom balled his hands into fists under the table, his nails digging into his palms as he attempted to contain his temper. The fact that Cramer fancied her was so disgustingly obvious to him; it was infuriating to see the way he looked at Rosemary, essentially undressing her with his eyes. Admittedly, Tom had done the same even before he and Rose had begun dating, but at least it was never one-sided in his case. But for Warren, it was entirely inappropriate and really rather violating, considering the fact that Rosemary most certainly wasn't interested in him. And it wasn't only the looks he gave her – he spoke to her incessantly and attempted to be near her at every given chance (as was currently being exhibited). He had tried to sort out his emotions on the matter several times, and had come to the conclusion that he was not jealous – he was simply protective of Rosemary.

He was still watching them when Warren turned to her and said something that, in Tom's opinion, was probably incredibly inane. He couldn't tell if she was simply being polite or truly meant it, but they then began laughing together.

Well, perhaps he was a _little_ jealous. As much as it pained him to admit.

It was an odd sensation, though; as a bit of an egotist, feelings of jealousy were rather foreign to him. And he certainly hadn't expected to feel such a visceral reaction to it all…Usually when he was angry, his violent outbursts would manifest themselves in the form of his magical ability. But Warren provoked him in such a way that it made him want to use his own hands – perhaps this was where his protective feelings of Rosemary came in.

Even so, it was strange to him (especially now that he was a world-class Dueller) that he felt the most satisfying way to deal with Cramer would be to feel his knuckles connect to the Ravenclaw's face. It was an instinct he had begun to experience at the end of the previous year, which came about every single time that he witnessed an interaction between Cramer and Rose. Yes, given the opportunity, he would love to rip him to shreds…piece by piece.

Alas, he was Head Boy now, a title that he was quite unwilling to sacrifice for someone as worthless as Warren Cramer, so such an opportunity seemed unlikely.

The Sorting and the feast that followed dragged on, but eventually came to an end. Now, all that was standing between Rose and Tom's much needed time alone was their final duty for the evening. After the Prefects finished showing the first-years to their dormitories, they were to meet once more with Tom and Rose to discuss how to go about implementing the changes in Hogwarts' policies that Dumbledore had prescribed, which Dippet had just announced to the school.

As the room cleared out, Tom met Rose at the end of the Ravenclaw table to wait for the Prefects to return. She smiled at him, but he noticed that behind it she still looked much more anxious than usual.

He stared at her from across the table for a while and tried to catch her eye, though she seemed to be looking in every direction other than him. Though he was rarely one to break silences, this one was becoming unbearable exponentially fast. "Some of the first-years look promising…They really can't be any worse than last year's, after all."

"Hm." The sound was airy and noncommittal. And she didn't even bother to look up at him.

He was beginning to get a bit nervous. Had he said something to offend her without even realizing it? Tom racked his brain but could think of no possible explanation; the last time he had seen her, at his flat, he thought that things had ended on as good of a note as they possibly could, given the circumstances. He trusted that she would have found a way to send him news if there had been anything bad that had come up for the rest of the summer. And that day, they had barely spoken. So what was it, then?

His words spilled from his lips a bit faster this time, a symptom of his concern: "Don't you remember? More than sixty percent of them went to Hufflepuff and Gryffindor…"

"Yes," she said, in that same distracted tone.

Tom was quickly becoming frustrated: she _still_ wouldn't so much as look him in the eye. He thought briefly about the prospect of simply performing Legilimency on her so he could see once and for all what was truly bothering her, but reminded himself that such a thing wouldn't be fair to her in the slightest.

He quickly forced himself to calm down, telling himself that even if she didn't tell him whatever it was that was bothering her, it was his responsibility to at least try to console her. In an attempt to do so, he reached across the table and placed his hand on hers.

If nothing else had gotten her attention since he sat down, that certainly did – she looked up, eyes full of panic, toward the group of professors that was standing in a circle and chatting at the front of the Great Hall and promptly ripped her hand out from under his.

He felt confused, even more frustrated, and rather stung all at once. Even more so when he remembered how she had been laughing with Warren not even an hour ago. He was about to angrily demand that she tell him exactly what was wrong when he saw that Slughorn was approaching them.

"Good to see you both again," the wizard greeted them with a friendly smile.

"You as well, Sir," Tom said, exuding his usual standard of charm.

Rosemary was silent, but smiled pleasantly up at the professor.

"I just spoke with Headmaster Dippet and I suggested that perhaps it would be best if he, Professor Dumbledore, and I would meet with the Prefects instead of the two of you. It would give you a chance to discuss how exactly you're planning to split up the duties of Head Boy and Girl this year…and so on…"

There was a slight twinkle in Slughorn's eye when he spoke those last three words: 'and so on'. Tom didn't really know what to make of it and was tempted for the second time that night to use Legilimency (it really was a rather addictive ability to have), but knew that it would be foolish. His emotional state, thanks to his concern over Rosemary, was too precarious to successfully perform one that Slughorn would be unable to detect.

But the slight blush that had suddenly appeared on Rose's face was evidence that these last words had held some sort of additional meaning.

What in the hell did everyone else know that he seemed to be missing?

* * *

**Yeah, yeah. I know I'm sort of the worst for dragging out Rose's big confession. But oh well, you'll just have to wait another chapter! Or more...?(;**

**Thank you to my absolutely lovely reviewers: Mrs. TomMarvoloRiddle, s8xyvriska, two Guests, CharlotteBlackwood, RosiePosie15, OtakuPandaHero, A regrettable decision, and AlishaCorral123! You gave me the push I needed to get through a small case of writer's block.(: Thanks as well to all of you that have followed and favorited! I hope you stick with this story until the very end to see how it all pans out!**

**Oh! And in case you were wondering, the title is a word in German that quite literally translates in English to: "a face badly in need of a fist"...because that's basically how Tom feels about Mr. Warren Cramer. :D**

**I hope you all have a lovely week! I'll post again as soon as I'm able to! **


	42. Part I - Of All People

Of All People

_September 1, 1944_

Rosemary and Tom arrived at their new, private dormitories with the intent to unpack, but she did nothing of the sort. As soon as she was alone, she tore open her trunk to extract her half-empty bottle of Tanqueray and took a long swig before her shaking fingers lit herself a cigarette. She rubbed her forehead, continually plagued by the headache that had persisted all day in apprehension of that very evening.

She sat on the floor of her dormitory and didn't even bother to look around: her eyes were glued instead to her door, at which Tom would arrive in any given moment. Part of her did desperately want to get her secrets off her chest, but another part wished he never came across the hall to meet her so she wouldn't have to tell him.

Of course, he arrived even sooner than she had expected. She jumped slightly at his knock at the door, considerably frazzled from her nerves. "One moment," she called to him, picking herself off the floor and straightening her skirt.

Her heart sank again when she saw again how happy he was. She almost started to cry, but held her breath instead.

"You haven't unpacked," he commented, looking over her head and into the room.

She shook her head, standing dumbly in the doorway in dread of what she would have to do as soon as she let him inside the room and closed the door.

"Well…it looks like you've unpacked _one_ thing at least." Apparently he had seen her bottle of liquor sitting on the floor next to her trunk. He eyed her with concern. "Are you going to tell me what exactly is bothering you, now?"

"I'm fine," she lied automatically. Her mind screamed at her in the aftermath:

_No, you senseless twat! Things are not fine! You cannot put this off any longer. If he finds out from Faye, Adam, Markus, or Rebecca, it will be so much worse…And if he finds out from Warren? Disaster will surely be an understatement._

"I don't believe that for even a moment," he told her. "But have it your way…we can talk later…"

He stepped closer to her and bent his neck to kiss her. The feeling of his lips on hers was every bit as lovely and passionate as it always was, but at the moment she was immune to its pleasantness. Tom pressed himself against her, forcing her to step backward a few times and allow him into her dormitory. He reached for the door behind him and closed it without his lips leaving hers even once.

Oh, how she wished she could enjoy his touch: the way he ran his fingers up and down the sides of her body before slipping them under her blouse; the unbelievably arousing feeling of his erection through his trousers; the delightful, forceful push that sent her lying on her bed on her back.

He climbed on top of her, kissing the side of her neck. "It's been much too long, love."

There was something about the fact that he had called her 'love' that really got to her. Perhaps it was simply that he rarely (if ever) did – even an 'I love you' from him was quite exceptional and to be treasured. Suddenly, her guilt overwhelmed her and she simply couldn't take it any longer.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before saying: "Tom, there is something I absolutely have to tell you."

"Finally." There was a trace of a smirk on his face when she reopened her eyes, though she genuinely doubted that it would be there for long.

Rosemary pushed him off of her and sat up, facing him. "First, you have to promise me that you won't be angry…You have to at least try to understand."

Any evidence of a smirk quickly vanished from his face. "That depends entirely on what it is."

"Tom…"

"Alright…Yes, I'll try."

She nodded and waited for the truth to come spilling from her lips, but nothing happened. They sat there in silence, Tom looking at her rather expectantly.

It was he that broke the silence in the end: "It's your parents again, isn't it?"

"Not really…"

"How do you mean, 'not really'?"

"They aren't really a problem anymore," she told him, looking down at her nails and attempting to sound as nonchalant as possible.

He raised an eyebrow at her and she opened her mouth to explain, but words eluded her once more. "Rosemary," he started in a warning tone, clearly losing patience with her.

"My parents think I'm seeing someone…"

"Who?"

"Well, not you."

"Obviously." He narrowed his eyes at her and scowled in frustration.

"It was the only way I could think of to ensure that they left us alone..."

"_Who?_" he demanded.

It felt as though there was a clamp around her stomach that grew tighter and tighter the longer she waited to answer this question. She thought she might faint from this internal pressure when she finally said with a defeated sigh: "Warren."

"_What?_" His eyes instantly narrowed to a glare.

She had desperately hoped that she had been overreacting about the entire situation, but this was clearly not the case; it had been quite a long time since she had seen him this angry.

Rosemary began to explain, her voice flowing from her lips as quickly as it possibly could: "My father tried to trick me into going to lunch with Gil Pollack –remember, from Apparition lessons? –and I was at Comet and Warren was there– he was doing an internship with my father this summer– and the idea just sort of popped in my head and so we went to lunch and I explained everything and then he agreed and I'm really sorry I didn't talk to you beforehand but it all happened very suddenly and I couldn't write you –"

Tom had stood from Rose's bed and began pacing back and forth across the room. "Of course it's him," he started, as though he hadn't listened to a word she had just said. "Of _course_."

_So much for his promise that he would 'try to understand'._

"Of course?" She looked at him in concern.

"I _knew_ that you fancied him all along…"

"Tom!" she couldn't help but give out a small laugh. She stood from the bed and strode over to him, tugging on his arm slightly to lead him back to the bed as his pacing was beginning to make her nervous. "Don't be ridiculous."

"_Don't_ talk down to me." Suddenly he was towering above her, looking at her in a fairly menacing way.

"I'm not," she said quietly. "But it _is_ ridiculous. I don't fancy him. He's just a good friend that I can actually trust."

"Well, I'm sure _he_ feels the same about that." Tom's voice dripped sarcasm.

She sighed and shook her head. "He does. We've been friends for years, Tom…"

"You couldn't have asked _anyone _else? What about Avery? Lestrange, even? It _had_ to be _him_, though, didn't it?"

"I did ask Markus first…he said he didn't want to get in the middle of things…" Rosemary told him. "I'm sorry…I understand that you probably didn't want anyone else to know. I didn't either, but there wasn't really a way around it. Honestly, I don't know what you have against Warren."

"He's scum," Tom scowled.

"How so?"

"He just is. I don't like him…nor do I have any reason to trust him."

"You _do_ have a reason: I trust him…isn't that good enough? Don't you trust _me_?"

Tom stopped pacing and looked at her for a long time before he finally said: "So you're telling me that this was the _only_ decent plan you could come up with?"

She was quickly growing tired of the way he was attacking her; Rose had expected him to be upset, but at least somewhat understanding. Plus, he had essentially answered her question: it was clear that he didn't trust her. Heat suddenly jumped to her face and she found herself snapping at him: "Well, it's not as though you've had any bright ideas!"

"I don't know if this qualifies as a '_bright idea_', Rosemary."

His mocking tone stung and exacerbated her anger even further. Acting on only a self-defensive impulse, she shrieked: "You know what?! Just forget it all completely and I'll save myself the trouble!"

"Oh, well I'm so _sorry _for causing you so much trouble," he sneered.

She was becoming dangerously close to tears and she found herself thinking about how very much she hated dealing with this side of him. His anger could make him so cruel and unsympathetic at times. It dawned on her suddenly that she would never win against this side of him; it was simply too irrational and too disconnected from the parts of him that actually loved her. Realizing this made her feel an empty, cool numbness which she had never experienced before and when she spoke again, her voice was free of any emotion whatsoever: "You were always worth it to me, Tom. The prospect of giving up my family– and everything else I've ever had, really– was nothing when it meant that I could just be yours forever. All you had to do was accept this one thing…and the fact that you won't even try makes it very clear, now, that I'm just not worth it to you."

His jaw was clenched as he started at her and she stared back at him blankly. "Do you genuinely believe that?" he asked her.

She shrugged.

Tom looked at her for just a moment longer before turning around and walking out of her dormitory, shutting the door sharply behind him.

Rosemary collapsed on her bed and buried her face into a pillow. She thought it might be suitable to scream into it, but lacked any motivation that might be required to do so. The numbness held a majority over her for the moment, though she could feel other emotions begin to creep in as she realized what exactly had just occurred.

A sickening feeling of dread was the first to set in – one that was even worse than what she had been experiencing all day leading up to her confession.

It was quite possible that she had Tom were finished. Split. Over.

But how? Things were _supposed_ to work out for them. It was as though her mind couldn't comprehend that they could end up any other way. They loved each other, or so she had thought. Maybe she had been wrong about that all along: maybe Tom truly didn't love her.

Then came the consuming, overwhelming sadness and she promptly burst into a complete mess of tears. One question persisted in her mind, no matter how many times she tried to push it away: what if everything that they had been through was for absolutely nothing?

* * *

Tom stormed across the hall and into his own dormitory, steaming in fury and reeling in disbelief.

Warren Cramer. Of all people…Warren Cramer.

It stung so deeply that he had no choice but to acknowledge his jealousy on the matter. Could he truly believe that Rosemary didn't fancy Cramer at all? Wasn't this more than enough evidence to assume that she did?

His fury was not only jealousy-based, of course – there was a good amount of pride in the mix as well. Not only had she informed someone he absolutely loathed about something he absolutely loathed about himself, she expected him to _rely_ on this person. She expected him to just sit back and let Cramer do him a favor…how extraordinarily offensive!

And how dare she accuse him of not caring enough for her and take things this far without so much as mentioning it to him! Granted, Markus wasn't around to facilitate their letters, but surely she could have found _some_ way to contact him if she truly wanted to. Maybe he really should have read her mind when given the chance…

If he had, then surely things wouldn't have escalated the way they did. Or maybe they would – that part didn't matter to him as much as the fact that she had hid it from him for quite some time. How had things gotten so far out of his control? Perhaps this was his own mistake; perhaps he shouldn't have given her so much free rein over everything…perhaps _he_ and he _alone_ should have been in control…

Then again, as much as he loathed admitting it, she had a point: without her plan, her parents would remain a much larger problem until he finally found a way to deal with them.

He was so angry that he wished he could hate her in that moment. Oh, how much easier it would have been to simply let her go! As long as he was with her, things would always be this way: messy. His pride and her impulsiveness would _always_ complicate things.

Tom realized he was pacing again and stopped himself, balling his hands into fists in frustration. He was at a complete loss as to what he should do. Of course, he couldn't just allow things to end between them – that was unthinkable. But seeing her at Cramer's side all year?

Technically, it would only be for the rest of the school year, after all…

_Only for the rest of the school year…_

He wished that this was something that seemed even remotely bearable, but how could it? Tom could barely see them laughing together without wanting to rip out Cramer's throat.

But what other option did he have? It was impossible for him to be happy about it, but he knew he would just have to live with it and move forward. Being without Rosemary would be unbearable on an entirely different level, no matter how frustrating it could be at times.

His emotions were beginning to get a bit more complicated as time passed...the bare rage he had succumbed to for the last few minutes was ebbing away, replaced with a small trickle of guilt for the way he had provoked her and completely lost it.

A flicker of his memories reminded him: hadn't one of his goals for the summer been to tame his easily ignited temper? If that night wasn't a firm reminder that little to no progress had been made, he didn't know what was.

To make matters worse, those four words kept playing on a loop in his mind:

"_Don't_ _you trust _me_?"_

He sat on the edge of his bed and pondered it. While it was true that it was difficult for him to place his fate in the hands of another (given that he was not one to enjoy unpredictability), there was at the very least some part of him that knew for certain she had taken the time to think her plan through. She was very intelligent and quite rational, after all. And they were also dealing with _her _parents, so he supposed it made sense that she would come up with the best solution.

The fact that it happened to be one that he absolutely loathed was merely an unfortunate coincidence.

He sighed aloud. Perhaps he should have been more understanding. But how many more of these up-and-down emotional disturbances could he take?

And then she remembered the other things she had said to him and how cold her voice was when she did so:

"_You were always worth it to me, Tom. The prospect of giving up my family– and everything else I've ever had, really– was nothing when it meant that I could just be yours forever. All you had to do was accept this one thing…"_

In the end, this was what shook him the most. No matter which way he looked at it, it was true: if they stayed together, she would essentially sacrifice just about everything in her life. It was something that he did not dwell upon often, primarily because it pained him so greatly to admit.

He couldn't help but feel suddenly very selfish and rather ashamed that he hadn't just accepted her new plan from the beginning. It was really the least he could do. Tom, struck with resolution as he quickly composed himself, walked back across the hall and knocked purposefully on her door. When no response came, he reached for the handle, only to find out that she had locked it.

If that was the way she wanted to play it, fine.

He muttered about ten different counter-charms to get rid of whichever one she had placed on the door, but each was unsuccessful. That familiar feeling of admiration for her swelled inside him: at times, he forgot just how talented she was at performing magic. The doorknob still wouldn't budge, so he supposed he would have to take another approach.

He stood back about two feet, hoping she wasn't standing close to the door on the other side, and moved his wand in a neat circle around the doorknob.

"_Expulso!_"

With the accompaniment of an unreasonably loud noise, the spell promptly blew out the neat little hole he had traced with his wand in the door and he heard Rosemary let out a yelp of surprise.

Tom briskly let himself into her room. "I'll fix that later," he muttered, gesturing to the piece of the door that was now lying on the floor of her dormitory.

He looked up and saw her curled up in a ball, sitting on her bed. She glared at him and he noticed her eyes were bright red from crying. If he didn't feel awful enough already, he certainly did then. Seeing her cry and knowing he was the one who had caused it was quite possibly one of the worst feelings in the world (and one of the few instances in which he actually dealt with the emotion of guilt).

He crossed the room and sat as near to her as he could dare. She continued to stare coldly at him, her eyes somehow appearing an even darker shade of blue than usual because of the tears.

"I'm not happy about this, Rosemary –" he started calmly.

"Obviously," she interrupted icily with a slight roll of her eyes.

"But you _are_ worth it. Of course you are."

Her face softened and he was further relieved when she didn't pull away as he leaned in to kiss her. Things continued to improve after that: she gently wiped away her tears with the tips of her fingers and finally gave him a small, sad smile.

"I am really sorry…I'm sorry for all those terrible things I said and for coming up with this plan without speaking to you first…" she said.

"It's alright," he told her as he reached up to her face to catch her last, stray tear on his index finger. "But I do have one request…"

"Of course," she breathed, pulling herself closer to him. "Anything."

"No one can know about this…that he is…_helping_ us." The humiliation of Avery, Lestrange, Donohue, Orion, and now Cramer knowing of his blood status was already terrible enough, after all.

She bit her lip and averted her gaze, looking down at her knees. It told him absolutely everything that he needed to know.

"Rosemary…" He could hear the initial stages of his temper in his voice and he took a long breath and swallowed, though his mouth had suddenly gone dry. If she had only told Faye, he supposed he could live with it. "Who did you tell?"

"I wasn't going to tell anyone before talking to you," she began quickly. "But they saw us…"

"What do you mean?"

"They saw Warren kiss me…"

His heart skipped a beat in the most unpleasant sense. Actually, it was more like five beats. "What, exactly, did you just say?" He hoped to Merlin he had simply heard her wrong.

"Only on the cheek, of course…on the train. He thought we had to pretend-"

Well, Tom supposed it could have been a lot worse, but his temper had been worn so thin as it were. "Oh really?" he started hotly. "Yes, I'm sure that's _all_ he was doing…_pretending_. Especially with your parents nowhere in sight…" He started to climb off her bed in pursuit of the Ravenclaw Tower to demonstrate to Cramer just an inkling of what would happen the next time he tried to kiss Rosemary, but she caught his arm.

"It was just a misunderstanding," she said calmly. "It's not going to happen again."

Although it was still considerably tempting to track down Cramer and deliver to him a non-fatal injury of his choosing, Tom forced himself to sit down beside her once more.

"Anyway, Faye and Adam saw us and told Markus and Rebecca…I had to explain…I'm sorry."

So _that_ was why Avery and Lestrange had been acting so odd during dinner. How dare they hide all of it from him…So much for loyalty. Suddenly, all he could think was:

_They'll pay_.

Then, as though she could trace his thoughts, she added, "Please don't be upset with them. I made them swear not to tell until I had the chance…"

He took a breath and held it, repeating in his head as many times as it took to calm himself:

_You love her. Don't fuck this up. In less than a year, it will all be worth it. You've got to do this for her…_

He felt his temper slowly fade away.

_That wasn't so bad, really._

This was all he had to do. He just had to make it to the end of the year. Besides, as long as Rosemary's parents weren't around, things would be completely normal between them and he could pretend as though Warren Cramer didn't exist.

"There's one more thing…" Rose started as his stomach dropped in apprehension. "My father spoke to a few of the professors. They're supposed to keep an eye on us to make sure we're not still seeing each other…"

He wordlessly pulled her against his chest so she couldn't see the way he clenched his jaw at her words. If he knew anything at all about the coming year anymore it was this: keeping himself in check would clearly be much easier said than done.

* * *

"_I grasp reality, but sometimes I like to choke it into submission." – Lisa Kleypas_

* * *

**Apologies for the late update! I wanted to upload last night, but the Doc Manager on the site wasn't working for some reason! :/**

**Thank you for the lovely reviews: Mrs. TomMarvoloRiddle, AlishaCorral123, A regrettable decision, CharlotteBlackwood, RosiePosie15, three lovely Guests, OtakuPandaHero, and Jehilia! We're almost at 200, which makes me sooo incredibly happy.**

**We're getting closer and closer to the end of Part I and I have plenty of drama up my sleeve to pack into these last few chapters! I'm so excited to see what you all think. :D**

**Thank you for reading!**


	43. Part I - House Points

House Points

_September 3, 1944_

It had been only two days since her confession and things were already rather unbearable. First off, Rosemary found herself dodging Emily Springer at every turn, unsure of how quickly the news of she and Warren's alleged relationship would travel through Hogwarts. It wouldn't have been so bad if she could just explain it all to her, but Tom had been very firm on the fact that no one else could know. This was probably for the best, anyways – it would be incredibly foolish to chance it leaking back to her parents somehow.

Still, she knew there would come a time when Emily would confront her and Rose was really beginning to dread it. In fact, her goal had become to put it off for as long as she possibly could. It was for this reason that she found herself in one of her favorite library study spots. Well, that and the fact that she had been too preoccupied with the mounting stress of she and Tom's relationship over the summer that her pre-term readings had gone to the wayside. She supposed that, since classes were to begin the following morning, it was about time that she caught up.

She could skip brushing up on Potions, at least, as she had memorized her entire copy of _Advanced Potion-Making _the previous year. But Defense Against the Dark Arts was another story entirely…

If only Tom could help her. Of course, if she really wanted to, she could ask him about it later when he snuck over to her dormitory, but it seemed like such a waste of the few, precious moments they could actually have together. Rose looked up gloomily from her books and spotted him across the room, sitting alone at a large table with his course materials spread out around him.

Even though she was terribly dejected that she could only watch him from afar in public settings, she couldn't help but smile as she did so. It had always been rather endearing to see him study, especially during the rare moments in which he would run a hand through his dark hair and scowl down at his notes.

It was then when she realized she wasn't the only one watching him: a few tables away sat a pack of third-year Slytherin girls, who were clearly attempting to get his attention. She rolled her eyes. Their interest really didn't come as much of a surprise given the fact that basically every girl at Hogwarts had been enamored with him at one point or another. But she couldn't help but notice that the attention he had received from these annoying packs of gigglers was significantly more than usual: thanks to his success in the Tournament, he had attained celebrity-level status (and being Head Boy certainly didn't hurt matters either).

Plus, there was a good chance that the majority of the school now believed him to be single.

At least she knew that he wouldn't indulge their interest in him. Rosemary sighed, returning her gaze to the chapter on advanced counter-curses in front of her. It was rather dull, really, the way the chapter was set up: each section featured a short review of a given curse, its counter-curse, and the theory behind why exactly it was supposed to work. She couldn't help but think:

_What a spectacular waste of time…_

It wasn't as though she would actually have to use much of what she learned outside of the class itself. She had to do well on her N.E.W.T. in order to qualify to be a Healer-in-training, but she had no plans to work in a Spell Damage ward. Potions and Plant Poisoning was surely her calling.

Tom, on the other hand, would be positively captivated with it all. There was no doubt in her mind that he had memorized the entire book long ago; in fact, he probably _had_ to in order to do so well at the Tournament. He probably knew the material well enough to teach the bloody class...

Then her mind flittered back to Paris, when they discussed their plans for the future – the day he told her he might be interested in a teaching position at some point. And, while he hadn't said so explicitly, she assumed that his goal would be to instruct the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Rose couldn't help but wonder if perhaps securing a teaching job directly after graduating from Hogwarts would be much easier said than done, even if their current professor was beginning to look like she was well-past a decent age of retirement. She failed to recall a time that a newly graduated Hogwarts student actually secured such a post. Although, if anyone were to do so, surely it would be Tom.

"Afternoon, Rosemary."

She nearly jumped at the sound of her own name, realizing how absorbed she had gotten in her thoughts. Her head snapped up to see Warren standing above her.

"Warren," she acknowledged him blandly.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, either oblivious or disregarding of her clear lack of enthusiasm.

"Not at all." She shifted her piles of books to make room for him at her table while attempting to look happy to see him, in case there were any onlookers. Rosemary chanced a look in Tom's direction to see if he had noticed the fact that Warren had joined her.

Yes, he certainly had. His face had tensed slightly as they made eye contact and moments later, he was packing up his things and making his way out of the library. The Slytherin girls' sighs were nearly audible when he strode past them, though he appeared to be unaware of his influence.

It hurt to know how much all of this was upsetting him, but what exactly could she do about it? Then again, he _had_ mentioned going to Hogsmeade that afternoon to meet with Raoul – so perhaps he wasn't as upset as she thought. For her conscience's sake, she suddenly decided that this must be the case.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts, eh?" Warren noted, eyeing the book in her hands.

"Mhm," she said, biting back the word: '_obviously'_. While she had never minded Warren's company in the past, there was now a certain level of tension she felt every time she spoke to him. Rosemary knew he was simply following through on their agreement– to convince everyone that they were a pair, they would have to spend a good deal of time together, of course –but there was something about being forced to spend time with someone that made it entirely unpleasant. She attempted to keep reminding herself:

_He _is _doing you a favor_. _And you're friends…there's no reason that things should be this painful._

Oh, but they were.

"I'm surprised you haven't finished reading...Usually you're so much more prepared than the rest of the class," he peered over her shoulder to see which part of the chapter she was on. "Bloody hell, Rosemary, you've got a ways to go before class tomorrow morning."

"Well, talking about it certainly won't make it go any faster," she said pointedly, attempting not to sound as though she was snapping at him.

He put his hands up, as though he were exhibiting surrender. "Alright, I understand; you need your peace and quiet."

Unfortunately, as soon as she turned back to her readings, she was again distracted – this time, by the same group of blathering Slytherin girls that had been staring so intently at Tom. From the way that they were taking turns glancing at Warren and her, it was clear that they were gossiping.

Obviously, there was no way she was going to get any actual studying done in such a distracting environment. "I'm starved," she suddenly announced to Warren. "I think I'll go to the Great Hall for some early dinner."

"Want me to come with?"

"That's alright. You just got here, after all."

Thankfully, he didn't insist. "I _should_ work on reviewing for Care of Magical Creatures," he said with a nod. "I'll see you tomorrow, though?"

"Sounds brilliant." She smiled pleasantly, attempting to ignore the inner sarcasm that had been behind her words.

Rosemary finished gathering her things and had simply intended to leave, but as she felt the eyes of the Slytherin girls following her on her way out, a strong urge to put them in their places blossomed inside of her. She simply couldn't resist by the time she reached their table.

In the kindest tone she could manage, she said: "Please try and keep it down ladies."

They glanced around at each other, smirking and giggling, which of course only served to irritate Rosemary more. Didn't they understand who exactly she was? She attempted to sound a bit more authoritative when she continued, "I'm quite serious…The rest of the library is trying to study."

And yet, they _still _were ignoring her. Except for Alexa Crabbe, the pack's leader, who promptly rolled her eyes at Rose.

Well, if they didn't take her seriously, she supposed she would just have to give them a good reason to: "Your cheek is going to cost you a point from Slytherin, Miss Crabbe."

Alexa leaned her head on her hand and gazed up at Rose with a smirk as she said, "Well, I guess I'll just have to talk with Tommy about that…"

_Tommy?! What in the fuck was going on?_

Rose took a deep breath to prevent herself from losing her temper entirely. "Let's make that five points from Slytherin, then." Before any of them had a chance to respond, she turned on her heel and briskly strode out of the library.

_Take that, you little shits._

Even in her victory (albeit a slim one), she was rather taken aback by the encounter - she couldn't even remember a time when a younger student had disrespected her so profoundly. Did they somehow believe that, after her "breakup" with Tom, they could just get away with anything they wanted?

Well, at least she knew they had another thing coming. Tom surely wouldn't appreciate the point docking from his own house, but he would at least understand the need for her to assert herself; he wouldn't have put up with their shit either.

And if they ever dared to call him 'Tommy' to his face? She certainly hoped she would be there to see it.

* * *

There was a good possibility that Tom had never hated someone in his life as much as he hated Warren Cramer. Well, perhaps that was a bit of an overstatement – his Muggle father, his blood traitor mother, and Basil Horton were also in the running, after all. Even so, it was damn near impossible for him to so much as look at Warren without grinding his teeth in irritation. Especially when he _just happened_ to show up wherever Rosemary seemed to go.

But why had he expected anything different? As far as the rest of the school knew, Rose and Warren were supposed to be together all the time (or at least quite frequently) – to everyone else, that was the new normal. This fact alone was enough to agitate him to no end...Why was it so easy for everyone to accept the idea that she had merely moved on from him?

Although Tom rarely concerned himself with the opinions of others (especially the rest of the student body which he universally considered inferior), he couldn't help but wonder how all of this reflected on him. Surely it made him look weak and unwanted…maybe a bit pitiful, even.

Well, he couldn't have that…Thankfully, a cold, removed exterior had always come rather naturally to him. Though even with this thin veil of resolve in place, he often found himself wanting to scream.

She was his! His, and his alone. She was _his_ prize that _he_ had won. And he wanted there to be absolutely no question of it in the mind of even a single person.

Tom exhaled as the door to the library shut behind him, attempting to force any and all thoughts that contained Cramer and Rosemary from his mind (with little success). He strode down the corridor to his right until he reached the Trophy Room and paused at the large plaque in which all of the Head Boys' and Girls' names had been engraved. There, at the bottom of the list in the left-hand column, was his name – and directly next to his, of course, was hers.

_ROSEMARY ALANA HORTON_

He raised his index finger to the plaque and ran it over his own name. When it reached hers, he took his time, feeling each letter's distinct indent into the metal. He dropped his hand to his side after reaching the final 'N' and just looked at their two names, side by side, for a few seconds.

Suddenly a strange thing happened, as though a switch had been flipped in his mind. It was so obvious in that moment that, no matter what anyone else thought, the truth above all else was that they belonged together. Cramer no longer mattered: she would inevitably be his. There was no alternative – they were magnetic. To him, this felt as certain as the laws of magic or nature.

It was a wonderful feeling, really. The tricky part would be finding a way to hang on to it.

He was so suddenly invigorated, in fact, that he didn't even grimace as much as he usually did as he polished the name on the trophy next to the plaque, which was required to gain entry to the corridor that led to the Head Boy's and Girl's chambers. It read:

_Barnabus Finkley Prize for Exceptional Spell-Casting, 1899 – Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

Yesterday, as he had been in an especially foul mood, he couldn't help but spit-shine it.

Tom quickly deposited his books in his dormitory and set off once more, making his way into Hogsmeade to meet with Beaumont. Thankfully, he had been able to obtain Dippet's permission to come and go as he pleased despite the increased security measures at the school.

He entered The Three Broomsticks and was rather surprised to find Beaumont sitting quietly in a dark corner booth instead of ogling the bartender (or worse, making a pass at her). In fact, Raoul seemed to be in the middle of a seemingly rare, deep thought. Despite this, his face broke into a wide smile when he saw Tom approaching.

They shook hands and Tom slid into the booth across from him.

"I see you had no problem making it off the grounds," Raoul commented. "Perks to being Head Boy, I suppose…"

He nodded. "Being a Tournament veteran also doesn't hurt."

"Yes… a veteran…" There was a trace of a smirk on Raoul's face and an edge of sarcasm in his voice that would have most certainly offended him if he hadn't been in a more positive mood, but fortunately Tom was able to ignore it. "How was the rest your summer?" Beaumont asked, while flagging down the bartender.

Tom shrugged. "Uneventful."

"And how is the lovely Miss Horton?" he asked casually, though there was obviously much more meaning behind his question given how much he knew of their situation.

Well, Tom certainly wasn't about to divulge any of the new details. "She's quite well."

Beaumont smiled in his usual, relaxed way. "Good."

He was relieved when the older wizard didn't press for more information on the subject.

The bartender arrived and took his order while delivering a second (or third – possibly fourth?) round to Raoul. As she strode away, Tom heard himself ask how the rest of Beaumont's summer had been. He really must have been in a bit of rare form if he was engaging in small talk.

"Rather uneventful as well," Raoul told him. "Though I recently relocated to London."

The bartender returned and set down his drink. Tom fished some coins out of his pocket to pay for it while he asked, "Is the Tournament in Britain this year?"

"No." An odd shadow of a smile suddenly crept onto Beaumont's face.

For a second or two, Tom considered pressing the subject further now that he was rather curious as to why Raoul had up-and-moved if it was unrelated to the Tournament, but dropped it. Raoul hadn't pressed him for details about Rosemary, after all, and a standard of being more welcoming of nosy conversations between them was not one Tom was interested (either deliberately or inadvertently) in setting.

"So, where _is_ the Tournament next summer?" Tom asked, effectively changing the subject.

"Rome." He grinned. "I'm partial to Paris, of course, but Rome is a close second in terms of my favorite cities that host it. They enchant the entire Colosseum for the month of the Tournament to keep out the muggles…Have you ever seen the Colosseum? It's quite a spectacular dueling venue, really." Beaumont rambled on for a while about the Colosseum and what Italy was like before getting on to the real reason Tom had met him that evening in the first place: "Now, then…As you'll be assisting me in the selection of the others that I'll be sponsoring, it would be ideal if you could make it to all of the scouting sessions. However, I understand that's a quite a bit to ask with your classes and duties as Head Boy –"

"It won't be a problem," Tom said abruptly. He would make sure of it – he wasn't about to pass up the valuable chance to scope out basically every competitor he might face in the next Tournament (except for those, like him, that had already been signed to new contracts).

Beaumont looked surprised, but pulled out a small piece of paper on which he had scribbled ten or so dates. Tom folded it up and placed it in his pocket before glancing up at the clock. "I should be getting back," he said when he realized that the time he promised Rosemary he would be at her room was less than fifteen minutes away.

Unsurprisingly, he was late by the time he actually reached the door that led to her dormitory. She didn't seem to mind, though: there was a pleasant grin on her face as she let him inside.

"How was your meeting with Raoul? Is he doing well?" she asked him as she shimmied off her skirt and pulled her jumper over her head, sidling up beside him beneath her quilted bedspread.

"He's fine. Apparently, he just moved to London."

"Oh, really? I wonder why…" Her gaze turned thoughtful.

"He didn't say. Other than that, the only news he had is that the Tournament will be held in Rome next summer. Then he gave me the dates of the scouting sessions."

"Rome…how exciting! You'll love it, Tom, it's absolutely beautiful…"

In a way, he was irritated by the fact that she said this. Not at her, necessarily. But why did the painful reminders that he was so much less cultured and wealthy than she was have to be so excruciatingly abundant?

"How was your evening?" he asked in an attempt to steer the conversation away from her travel stories. He was rather nervous to hear her answer, though, truly hoping she wouldn't mention anything related to Cramer.

She scowled. "A few third years weren't being very respectful so I had to remind them who exactly they were dealing with by taking away a few of their house points."

He didn't know why, but he felt an odd spark of pride for her upon hearing her words. It was also quite attractive somehow to picture her asserting her authority. "I would have done the same," he told her as he ran a finger along her inner forearm. "Which house? Those Gryffindor pests?"

She shook her head and a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Slytherin."

Now it was his turn to scowl.

Rosemary laughed and rolled on top of him, straddling him with her legs. "You can make it even if you wish…take five points from Ravenclaw the next time you get a chance."

"Paving the way so that Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are in the lead? I'd rather not."

She laughed again and kissed the side of his face, trailing her lips down his jawline in a way that he couldn't help but relish. Between kisses, she said: "I'm sure Slytherin will catch up quickly…Although, I don't really see how it matters. It was only five points."

"_Five _points because someone was being disrespectful? That seems like a little much," Tom grumbled as she unbuttoned his shirt.

Rose only thought it was amusing, of course. "I'm sure you'll get over it."

It was true. He probably would. Especially if she kept doing what she was doing with her hands.

His thoughts trailed away from him as he assisted her in slipping out of her lingerie and pulled her body close to his, bending his head slightly to kiss her breasts. He relished the way her nipples grew so firm when he teased them with his tongue. Rose let out a soft moan in pleasure before running one of her small hands down his chest and gracefully unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers.

She glanced down at his erection when she began to stroke it and then back up at him with a satisfied look in her eyes. What, had she expected something else? If so, she shouldn't have...he imagined that it would be humanly impossible to prevent himself from being turned on by her bare flesh. Most times, she didn't need to be even remotely clothes-less to evoke his physical urges.

They took turns pleasuring each other until Tom reached between her legs and felt just how extraordinarily wet she had become. Yes, she was ready…and he was _more _than ready. He pulled her on top once more, her legs to each side of him. She took the hint, positioning herself over his cock. He groaned as she slowly slid over every inch of him and he glanced down to watch her do so.

Rosemary inhaled with a sharp gasp as she took the rest of him and he found himself wanting to make her emit that same noise again and again. She moved her hips in a slow rhythm at first. Tom waited patiently, though there was a strong urge inside of him to fuck her as hard and fast as he wanted.

Rose soon picked up speed, though, letting out short, sexy moans of pleasure quite often. Tom ran his hands over her soft skin as she rode him, tracing his hands up the sides of her legs, her back, and over her chest.

He could tell it wasn't going to take long until she reached her climax (understandably, given how long their foreplay had been), which meant he only had a few minutes to get himself there as well. This wasn't exactly a challenge so much as an excuse to do with her exactly as he pleased to send them both over the edge.

Tom gripped her hips and began moving her body for her. He loved the way they fucked: even when she was on top, he was the one in control. The best part of all was the fact that she loved every second of it.

He groaned as he moved her faster and faster over himself until, finally, he felt her body tremble in the most exquisite way. He took it as a signal to give in to his own climax, fucking her even harder until he finally released inside of her.

She collapsed in exhaustion against his chest and he buried his hands in her hair before tilting her face up to kiss him.

"Wow…Oh, my…" she sighed, trying to regain her breath. "Oh, Tom…that was so excellent…"

Yes, it really had been.

She kissed his jaw and nuzzled against his chest. Her eyes were gently closed when she said: "Five points to Slytherin."

* * *

"_I crush her against me. I want to be part of her. Not just inside her but all around her. I want our rib cages to crack open and our hearts to migrate and merge. I want our cells to braid together like living thread." – Isaac Marion_

* * *

**Apologies for the delay! I was incredibly sick earlier this week...the kind of sick that made me lack any motivation whatsoever to write. But, I'm back now! I'll try to post the next chapter early to make up for it.(:**

**A big thank you to Jehilia, RosiePosie15, Charlotte Blackwood, A regrettable decision, and AlishaCorral123 for your reviews! I swear, they made me get better faster.(;**

**And thank you all for your patience and readership! **


	44. Part I - An Ally, An Enemy

An Ally. An Enemy.

_September 4, 1944_

"I've been meaning to say – your performance in the Tournament was most impressive, my boy."

"Thank you, Sir." Tom attempted to smile modestly.

He was sitting in Professor Slughorn's office on the first day of class, after receiving an invitation to catch up over breakfast.

"Do you plan to make a career of it?"

"Perhaps," he answered nonchalantly. "I'm not quite sure at the moment."

Slughorn nodded slightly. "Well, you've always been an exceptionally talented young man. I'm sure you'll find tremendous success in whatever you choose to do."

Tom didn't need Slughorn to tell him that for him to know it, of course. But it was still nice to hear.

The professor leaned back in his chair and took a sip of tea before he suddenly said: "I was sorry to hear about you and Miss Horton."

Tom was slightly taken aback; he hadn't expected anyone to dare bring up the subject to him. Then again, Slughorn's intrusiveness and lack of any discernible filter were two of his most well-known traits. So really he shouldn't have been all that surprised.

"It just didn't work out," Tom attempted to sound indifferent (which was rather easy considering the fact that he and Rosemary were still very much a couple).

There was an uncomfortable few seconds of silence before Slughorn spoke again. "You're still seeing her, aren't you?"

Tom's pulse quickened at the accusation. There was no doubt in his mind that Slughorn was one of the professors that Rosemary's father had spoken to and he was therefore not to be trusted.

"No, I'm not seeing her any longer." He shook his head as he answered, hoping his tone was flat enough to be convincing.

Slughorn let out a small chuckle and his eyes twinkled in amusement. "You can trust me, Riddle."

He seriously doubted that. He had no idea what Basil had promised to reward the professor with for keeping an eye on them all year, but he could only imagine: Quidditch tickets? Perhaps even stock in Comet? Tom knew that Slughorn was at least a little greedy (if his thinly veiled motives behind the Slug Club meetings were any indication), which meant that it would be quite difficult for Tom to compete with Mr. Horton for his loyalty.

Even so, Tom knew how much Slughorn adored him (and Rosemary, as well) – could he genuinely be greedy enough to screw over two of his favorite students so profoundly?

He supposed there was only one way to find out. Tom cleared his mind and he casted the spell nonverbally:

_Legilimens._

He knew it was rather risky– Slughorn _was _a great wizard, after all –but he had improved his technique significantly over the past few weeks. Besides, the fact that the matter in question would be at the forefront of Slughorn's mind made things all the easier; there was no need for Tom to delve into the depths of it to find what he required.

As Tom's spell deepened and he slowly began to gain awareness of Slughorn's conscious thoughts, a single, vivid memory hit him forcefully. And from it, he ended up getting much more information than he had bargained for:

He could suddenly see the Great Hall, which had been rearranged into a ballroom. It was decorated in a way that was quite similar to the way the Hogwarts Annual Sweethearts Ball had been the year prior. Tom tried to spot himself or Rosemary, but his vision instead focused on a slightly plump young man who was leading a witch with mousy brown hair outside into a nearby courtyard.

He couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why _this_ was on Slughorn's mind.

Tom continued to watch as the young, plain-looking couple stepped through the courtyard, quickly growing impatient due to the apparent lack of information that the memory contained.

He was just about to pull himself out of the memory when he caught a glimpse of dark red hair.

_Rosemary?_

Upon closer inspection, he realized it wasn't her. But the girl and Rose _did _look nearly identical, with the exception of a few minor details in their features. It didn't take him long to determine that he was, in fact, looking at a young Evelyn Horton…Evelyn _Cantrell_, rather.

But the boy who stood close to her, holding her hands sandwiched between his own while speaking to her in hushed tones, bore no resemblance whatsoever to Basil Horton. The boy was taller and lankier, with blondish-brown hair.

It _had_ to be him. Tom quickly scoured his mind in search for the name Rosemary had told him weeks and weeks ago upon their first discovery of her parents' time at Hogwarts – Pierce, wasn't it?

The original couple he had seen, who had entered the courtyard through the ballroom only to stumble upon Evelyn and the boy he assumed was Pierce, suddenly ducked behind a bush to avoid being seen by them. It dawned on him suddenly that he had been following none other than a young Professor Slughorn. He supposed he wasn't exactly surprised: it _was _Slughorn's memory, after all – if Tom had gotten a better look at him in the first place, he surely would have realized it all sooner.

Nor was he surprised that the teenage Horace Slughorn wouldn't hesitate to eavesdrop on someone. Tom could make out only a snippet of their conversation (presumably, the parts of it that Slughorn had heard and remembered):

"Basil will be looking for you, Eve…" the boy told her sadly.

"Let him find me, then," she said defiantly, pulling herself closer to him.

He put his hands on her arms as though he might push her away, but didn't. As though his lack of a struggle to move away from her had been an invitation, she craned her neck and kissed him on the lips. He kissed her back for a few moments before pulling away with a rather pained expression on his face.

"Pierce…" she suddenly sounded as though she were about to cry.

"You're engaged." He said this resolutely and took a small step away from her.

"For now."

Tom couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment of this reminder that Evelyn had married Basil instead. If she hadn't, Rosemary and Tom would have never been in such a mess in the first place. Then again, if that were the case, she wouldn't have been a pure-blood…and he probably wouldn't have even fallen in love with her.

"You've been changing your mind nearly every day about what your choice is, Eve. If you won't decide, I will for you. We have to stop this…I can't…"

"No." She pleadingly whimpered the word.

"We have to," he repeated. "I won't let you lose your entire family for me."

Hearing this made Tom feel as though a cloud of guilt was passing over his conscience, casting a shadow upon many of the things he had rarely (if at all) called into question. Most significantly, did it make him a selfish, terrible person if he didn't discourage Rosemary from choosing him?

Tom would much rather accept the fact that he was a selfish person than accept that he had lost Rosemary forever. This was not a true flaw in his eyes; if anything, he considered himself to be strong in a way that Pierce had been ultimately weak. Besides, it wasn't as though he was _forcing _Rosemary to choose him – she was perfectly capable of acting on her on accord.

Evelyn wiped away a couple of tears that had begun streaming down her cheeks. "I'll never love him."

"You'll learn to." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

The memory faded to black and Tom pulled himself back out of Slughorn's mind and into reality once more; only two or three seconds had passed since he had first casted the spell. It was unfortunate that, although he had gained some information, there wasn't quite enough to conclude whether or not Slughorn was actually trustworthy.

Tom was still grappling with how to respond to him when the professor said with an amused smirk, "It's sort of funny how history has a way of repeating itself, isn't it?"

Tom's mouth went dry and his heart skipped a beat at the same time. He had been caught. Performing Legilimency...This alone was enough for expulsion. And performing it on a professor? He might as well turn over his wand right then and there.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._

"Pierce Jordan was one of my closest friends…" Slughorn said with a sad twinge in his voice. "A brilliant wizard. Something changed in him after Evelyn and Basil were married, though. He was never quite the same after that. He went a bit barmy, really…ended up with a muggle girl. It's a shame; I rarely see him anymore."

"That's a shame," Tom mumbled, though he was barely listening to anything that the professor was saying. He was too busy panicking about the fact that his Legilimency talents had been discovered.

"Don't misunderstand – Basil has grown to be a close friend of mine over the years. He's a good man…but sometimes I can't help but think that if Evelyn had been given a fair choice and Pierce would have allowed her to take a chance, they would have ended up together. And there is no doubt in my mind that, in time, her parents would have forgiven her." Tom recovered marginally from his panic, enough to listen to what Slughorn was telling him. "Miss Horton is perhaps the most talented witch that I've ever taught Potions to. I have a great deal of respect for her…and you as well, of course. You both deserve to decide on your own whatever it is that you choose to do. I don't think I could truly forgive myself if I didn't help in any way that I could."

It was a kind gesture, he supposed, but he honestly would rather Slughorn not to be involved in the first place. Things were already complicated enough – the last thing they needed was his meddling. "Thank you, Sir…but I doubt her father will listen to reason at this point."

Slughorn let out a light laugh. "Of course, not. Basil is much too stubborn. But there are some things he doesn't need to know…for instance, the way I run my classes."

Tom took the hint immediately: Slughorn would be making them Potions partners.

A clock chimed in the corner of the room, which meant that he had exactly fifteen minutes to arrive at Defense Against the Dark Arts for his first class of the term. "I should be going," Tom announced. He thought about thanking the professor, but thought that it might just make things even more uncomfortable. Slughorn nodded and Tom stood to leave. "Thank you for breakfast," he finally decided on.

As he started toward the door, Slughorn said: "It's always more challenging to find the answers to a question you're emotionally connected to without being detected. You have to keep your mind clear and avoid trying to process anything you see until you're back in your own head." He then sent Tom a half-amused, half-warning look. "…Not that you'll be trying _that_ out again."

"Of course not, Sir," Tom said, leaving the room with a giant smirk on his face.

* * *

"You really should just talk to her and get it over with," Faye told her, while spreading some jam on a piece of toast.

Rose picked at her eggs with her fork. "And say what, exactly?"

"The truth," Faye shrugged. "She'll be pissed off at first, but she'll come around."

"I can't. Tom doesn't want it getting out…"

"Surprising," her friend said sarcastically.

"I agree with him, though. Telling more people means a higher probability of a professor and therefore my father finding out."

"Even if it means losing one of your close friends?"

"Emily and I aren't _that_ close," Rose said defensively, attempting to ignore the guilty ache of her conscience inside her chest.

"I suppose it's not much of a loss anyway. She's always been rather annoying…and painfully unashamed of the fact that she's a half-blood."

Rosemary attempted to feel some sort of comfort at these words, but failed. Her conscience was still eating away at her when she glanced up and saw Emily and Loretta enter the Great Hall. As they grew closer and closer to the Ravenclaw table, Rosemary realized that they were glaring at her.

Faye must have noticed, too, because she said: "Well, here's your chance. It certainly looks as though she has something to say to you…" Apparently, she didn't want to be caught in the middle of things (which was rather unusual for someone who practiced the art of gossip as religiously as she did), because she suddenly stood from the table and gathered her books. "I'll see you in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Rosemary nodded, gradually becoming more and more nauseous at the thought of the impending confrontation. They were quite close – perhaps only twenty feet at most – and she was truly beginning to panic.

_Just leave. Wait until Emily has calmed down a bit and talk to her about it then…_

Another part of her chimed in:

_No. Stay and get it over with. It's only going to get worse the longer you put this off._

She knew the second voice in her head was correct, but it was so very tempting to continue to avoid the situation (even though there was no way she could avoid it forever).

Yes, she decided firmly. She would stay and attempt to sort things out with Emily – that was the mature thing to do.

It was at this precise moment that she saw Warren stride into the Great Hall. She became even more filled with dread at the sight of him, realizing how exponentially more uncomfortable such a confrontation would be if he were anywhere near the vicinity. Clearly this was not the right time to talk.

Rose left the table just as Emily and Loretta reached it, pretending as though she hadn't seen either of them. She could feel their eyes on her back as she made her escape.

There was still an hour to kill before the first class of the term, so she decided she might as well return to her dormitory…or perhaps visit Tom across the hall. She knocked on his door hopefully, realizing that he might be a good distraction from her shameful lack of courage. She waited and pressed her ear against the door to see if she might hear any evidence of his presence, but no luck – perhaps he had just gone down for breakfast and she had missed him.

Rose sighed and entered her own room, looking around for something to occupy her. Reviewing her pile of schoolbooks was always an option…though it seemed like such a dreadfully unattractive one at the time. All she really felt like doing was to sprawl out on her bed and wait for the twisting feeling in her stomach to subside.

So that was exactly what she did – well, for about fifteen minutes anyway. Then she sat up, unable to take it any longer. She _had_ to get it over with.

Rosemary waited for a good fifteen minutes outside of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom before her peers finally began trickling in. She nervously played with a string that had frayed on her robes and attempted not to make eye contact with Tom as he strode past her into the room, just in case there was anyone watching them.

Next to come down the corridor was Warren. "Contemplating whether or not to skip on the first day?" he smirked.

She might have humored him with a smirk of her own, but was too absorbed in her anxiety to bother with an attempt. "I'll be in in just a moment," she told him.

He looked at her curiously for a moment. He must have made the correct assumption that she was not about to divulge the real reasons for her hesitation, though, because his face soon broke into its usual, relaxed smile. "Alright…Well, I'll be sure to save you a seat."

Rosemary glanced inside the room at the clock on the wall: five minutes until class was supposed to start. She found part of herself wishing that Emily would be late so that she could once again postpone their conversation, but then the blonde and her brunette best friend promptly turned the corner.

This time, however, she was not met with their glares. In fact, they were about to ignore her and walk right past her into the room.

"Emily – a moment?" she heard herself ask. Her insides felt as though they were suddenly made of a wet rag that someone was wringing out to dry.

The pair stopped and looked at Rose. Emily seemed to be at a loss for words, so Loretta came to her rescue: "What makes you think she wants to talk to _you_?" she snapped.

"I know you don't _want_ to," Rose said, ignoring Loretta and speaking directly to Emily. "But we really should talk about this."

"Oh yes, I'm sure that will make things loads better."

Loretta had responded again, which irritated Rosemary quite a bit. Couldn't she just let Emily speak for herself? "Well then what do you suggest, Loretta? That I just allow years of friendship to go down the drain?"

"That's what you're calling it?" Loretta scoffed. "I was under the impression that friendship has an entirely different definition, which certainly doesn't include stealing the other's love interest."

"That's a bit of an unfair simplification," Rosemary said defensively. She wanted to continue on and explain as much as her promise of secrecy to Tom would permit, but was aware that she had all but run out of time: she could hear Professor Merrythought's weak, geriatric voice drift out into the corridor as she began to address the class. "It's very complicated, really."

Loretta opened her mouth once more to deliver another retort, but Emily was suddenly no longer silent: "There's nothing complicated about this at all – the entire school knows what happened!"

"Yeah," Loretta chimed in again. "Everyone knows about how you and Warren spent all summer together while he was working for your father at Comet. I mean, it was already clear that you didn't care about friendships when you jumped from Markus to Tom."

Rosemary's eyes widened slightly in disbelief of what Loretta was clearly insinuating. "But they're still friends!" she protested.

Loretta rolled her eyes in response, as though the subject were open to interpretation. Emily looked down at her shoes and said quietly, "A lot of people are saying you were dating Warren before you even broke up with Riddle…"

"And do you honestly believe that?" she demanded.

Emily shrugged.

Rosemary clenched her jaw and glared at her, suddenly enraged. How dare they preach to her about friendship, when they failed to give her even the slightest benefit of the doubt? Now that her temper had been set off, there was little she could do to prevent the words that flowed out of her mouth next. She unconsciously straightened her spine so that she towered above Emily's petite frame and said, "I wasn't the one that ruined your chances with Warren. He knew that you fancied him all of last year, but never really made a move, did he? And that's simply _not my fault._"

It took Rosemary a second to realize that these words and their cruel accompanying tone had come from her very own mouth. She instantly felt terrible, of course. But at the same time, she couldn't help but think that she was at least partially in the right – sure, she could have said it a bit more gently, but was it really _her_ fault that Emily wasn't in touch with reality?

The other girls' reactions were nothing less than shocked. Loretta's mouth had fallen open slightly and she was looking at Emily with concern, whose face had become unreadable. Silence fell between the three of them for a few seconds and she could once again hear Merrythought's voice floating out from the classroom and into the corridor where they all stood. Somehow, she had completely forgotten that they were now at least five minutes late for class.

The corridor was suddenly filled with such an abrupt outburst that Rosemary nearly flinched: "YOU ARE A COMPLETE BITCH AND A TRULY AWFUL PERSON!" Emily screamed at her, tears streaming down her pale cheeks, before storming past her in the direction of Ravenclaw Tower. Rose looked at Loretta, expecting her to say something cruel, but it was clear that she too had yet to recover from the shock of the quiet Ravenclaw's outburst.

Rosemary swallowed, feeling the heavy weight of silence that had fallen upon both the corridor and the nearby classroom. Though she told herself she shouldn't dare to, she glanced inside and saw the entire class (including Professor Merrythought) staring back at her. She contemplated running away to her dormitory like Emily had, but decided against it. That would look weak. And if the rumors about herself that she had just heard from Emily and Loretta were any indication, the last thing she needed was to look weak.

Her face was bright red as she slowly stepped into the classroom and took the seat next to Warren that he had saved for her, all while the eyes of the entire class followed her every step.

What did they all think of her, now? She didn't dare glance at a single one of them, especially not Tom. It was certainly less than ideal that this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts class had paired up Ravenclaw and Slytherin, the two houses whose opinions obviously mattered the most to her in this very moment.

Merrythought finally broke the silence. "Well, erm…let's continue our discussion of what is required to produce a full counter-curse…"

She had truly wished that the queasy feeling she had felt all morning in anticipation to speaking with Emily would have gone away after doing so, but it had instead grown even worse than before. Not only that; her eyes were beginning to sting with tears. Was she truly a bad person now? She tried her best to tell herself she wasn't. After all, the only thing she even really wanted was to be with Tom. How could that be a bad thing? Was it so selfish of her to want that?

Again and again she tried convincing herself that she had done the right thing, but she couldn't quite forget the cruel way in which she had spoken to Emily and her now-former friend's tearful response. She struggled against the urge to cry, knowing that a good majority of the class was still staring at her.

It was only the first day of class and things had completely gone to shit. When would she catch a break?

Her only consolation was her firm belief that things couldn't possibly get much worse.

* * *

"_Sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together." – Marilyn Monroe_

* * *

**Hey everyone! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. :D**

**I want to thank everyone for reading, favoriting, following, and reviewing (a special shout-out to Mrs. TomMarvoloRiddle, CharlotteBlackwood, AlishaCorral123, A regrettable decision, How910, and RosiePosie15 for your reviews of last chapter)! I'm trying to get these last few chapters of Part I out as fast as possible, as I'm leaving for a vacation in mid-August and want to finish it before then, so hopefully you'll see some really rapid updates from me in the next couple of weeks.(: **


	45. Part I - A Pugnacious Partner

A Pugnacious Partner

_September 8, 1944_

Rosemary knew all too well that she had become a primary topic of the school's gossip after Emily's outburst earlier that week. At first, Faye and Rebecca had informed her of the ridiculous things that were being said, but it had quickly tapered from their conversations. She assumed that it was because the rumors had only gotten nastier, as it was readily apparent that people were still talking about her.

Recently, she found herself thinking back to the previous year quite a bit, around the time when she and Markus broke things off. Plenty of rumors regarding her had surfaced then, too, but these new ones somehow impacted her so much more. It was quite ironic that they were affecting her so, considering the fact that there was absolutely no truth behind any of them and she knew it. Or perhaps that was all the more reason to be upset by them.

Anyway, there was little she could do. The best she could hope for was that they might sizzle out in a week or two…though the whispering and scrutinizing glances were certainly getting tiring. On the bright side, she only had to make it through one more class (Charms) and a quick meeting with Dumbledore before the weekend finally arrived and she could spend some much-needed time with Tom.

"Good afternoon, class," Professor Thurston greeted them while hurrying into the room. As usual, he was five minutes late and awkwardly flustered. "Just a few announcements before we begin…We'll have our first exam in two weeks' time, which will cover all of chapters sixteen through seventeen in your textbook. In addition, the Dueling Club will be holding an informational session on Sunday night. If you're interested, Mr. Riddle can provide you with the details…"

At the mention of his name, Rosemary felt compelled to look in his direction, but resisted. She forced her attention back to the professor once more, just as he was finishing up with the other announcements for the class.

"Now, then. Today you'll be working in partners to write an in-class essay that discusses each limitation of the Hour-Reversal Charm. You'll have about half the period to do so and for the second half, we'll come back together as a group to discuss what you came up with."

Rose quickly made a list in her head of the people she wouldn't mind pairing up with, even though Professor Thurston always chose for them: Markus, Adam, Faye…and Rebecca? Yes, she decided, she wouldn't even mind Rebecca.

If anything was an indication that she was in a rather terrible state of affairs, it was the fact that she now had so few friends that Rebecca had become a viable option.

"Ainsworth, you'll work with Avery..."

Well, there went Markus as an option. After that, Faye and Warren got paired up, which was rather bittersweet. She was rather relieved that she didn't have to work with Warren, but it also meant that her list of potential partners she wouldn't mind had quickly dwindled to two.

As Thurston continued to call out names, she realized that he was simply reading down the class list and pairing them in alphabetical order. It was at the exact moment that this realization occurred when she heard him say:

"Hornby and Horton."

She forced herself to resist the scowl that began tugging at the corners of her mouth. Rosemary had loathed Olive, Rebecca's former best friend, ever since she and Faye had begun spending time with the Slytherin boys – years ago. Of course, she knew her dislike was not one-sided: Olive had always been the type of girl that demanded to be the center of attention and the fact that Markus, Adam, and Tom had paid so much more attention to Rose and Faye than they ever had to her surely caused much of her rude, snobbish behavior. It was because of her apparent jealously that, as annoying as she was, Rosemary couldn't help but get at least a little amusement out of it over the years.

Still, Rose did her best to avoid her if at all possible.

The rest of the class began shifting around to sit near their new partners and Rose spotted Olive sitting in the back corner of the classroom, examining her hair for split ends as though she hadn't heard a word of what Professor Thurston had said. Clearly she had expected Rose to get up and move to her instead of the other way around; it was a rather obvious play to gain the illusion of power.

Rosemary could have been stubborn, but the last thing she wanted to do was create a scene and draw even more unwanted attention to herself. Instead, she stood and crossed the room, sliding into the desk next to Hornby.

The class gradually filled with discussions between the pairs regarding the assignment, but Olive and Rose said absolutely nothing to each other. She had gotten straight to work on writing the essay while Hornby moved on from her hair and began examining her nails instead. The lack of participation on Olive's part might have annoyed Rose if she actually thought that the Slytherin might prove to be helpful in some way…but she knew better. It was a bit of a wonder that Olive had actually made it to the N.E.W.T. level in any of her classes, though Charms was one of the easiest.

At any rate, she didn't exactly mind doing the work if it meant that the quality was up to Rose's high standard. Professor Thurston would know that she had done all of the work herself as soon as he read the essay anyway.

The second, discussion-based half of the class dragged on for what felt like ages, but Thurston finally dismissed them. Rosemary began to pack her things, eager to enjoy the weekend ahead of her, when Olive suddenly said, "It's amazing, really…"

Rosemary hated the way she spoke, as though she was bored with everything. Even the things that _she_ brought up. She knew she shouldn't have even bothered responding, but a lapse in judgment allowed her to anyway: "What?" she asked, a light smattering of annoyance evident in her voice.

"Oh, you know…how someone could leave someone like _that_," she tilted her head in the direction of Tom, "for someone like _that_." Her black-lined eyes flitted toward Warren.

Rosemary rolled her eyes and said nothing, standing to leave.

"Well, no need to worry," Olive continued as she moved to stand as well and tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder. "I fully intend on helping him forget all about you…by whatever means necessary." She winked at Rosemary while a cruel smirk spread across her face.

She was aware of the unfortunate reality that her powers as Head Girl were essentially useless in dealing with Hornby. It was quite unlikely that any of the seventh-year Slytherins (with the exception of Tom) actually cared about which house had the most points, so dealing with her in the same way that she had dealt with the girls in the library was out. Nor was she about to go and tell a professor about it – that would be nothing short of mortifying and would probably only serve to make her peers like her even less than they clearly already did.

In fact, if anything, her role as Head Girl was a bit of a burden in this instance. After all, she couldn't exactly begin hurling insults at Olive the way she might have liked to – she had a reputation to maintain (albeit a minimally influential one thanks to the flurry of rumors that she was now convinced had come directly from Hornby).

But she had to say _something_. Rosemary sent a calm smirk of her own right back to her and said in the fakest, most condescending voice she could possibly muster: "Well, isn't that sweet of you Olive…Sadly, you and I both know that Tom will _never _be that desperate."

The Slytherin's smirk faltered for less than a second and even Rosemary had to admit that this lack of a reaction from her remark was somewhat impressive. "Just give it time," Hornby told her sweetly.

_What an idiot._

She was still fuming about Olive when she reached Dumbledore's office and saw Tom sitting outside, waiting for their meeting with the professor. They locked eyes for a few treasured seconds and suddenly her encounter with Hornby seemed entirely insignificant. It made her wonder why she had allowed it to get under her skin for even a moment – after all, Olive had absolutely no chance with Tom. However, the altercation had brought the buried memory of Rebecca mentioning something about Tom and Olive to the surface…and it was suddenly beginning to bother her that she had never learned full story behind it.

Her thoughts were distracted when Professor Dumbledore appeared at the door to his office. "Good afternoon, Rose, Tom," he greeted them both with his usual, kind smile. Rosemary didn't fully understand how Tom could dislike such a pleasant person so much, but supposed he probably had his reasons.

They both stood to follow him inside, but Dumbledore turned to Tom and said, "I was hoping to speak privately with Miss Horton for just a few moments, if you don't mind, Tom."

"Of course not." He flashed the professor an obviously fake smile and took a seat once more while Rosemary walked past him and into the office.

Professor Dumbledore gestured to one of the chairs across from his desk and closed the door with a wave of his hand. Suddenly, she became quite nervous – was she in trouble? Had he found out about how she had taken points from those girls in the library and thought she was abusing her power?

"How can I help you, Professor?" she asked nervously.

"You're not in trouble, Rosemary…" A gentle smile spread across his face. "I just wanted to make sure you're doing well."

"Oh yes, I'm fine," she said automatically.

He looked down his nose at her and ever-so-slightly raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Well, no. I don't know…I suppose?" she found herself saying, though she was rather embarrassed to admit it.

Dumbledore tilted his head toward her. "Sometimes those things that are best for us are our most challenging trials."

"I suppose so."

Clearly he too had spoken to her parents – which was rather odd, considering the fact that her father had never so much as mentioned him. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised, though. Her father had proven to be quite thorough if it meant keeping her away from Tom.

"If Mr. Riddle is bothering you at all, I can look into separating your duties as Head Boy and Girl…"

"He's not," Rosemary said quickly, hoping she didn't sound as taken aback as she felt. He had made it sound as though Tom was a complete creep – where did _that_ come from? She was beginning to see why Tom didn't like the professor all that much: it was clear that Dumbledore was, at best, quite wary of him.

Dumbledore looked at her for what felt like a very long time, until he finally said, "I'm glad. But do let me know if something changes."

* * *

A few minutes passed until the door to Dumbledore's office was opened and he was beckoned inside. It just so happened that the amount of time he was waiting in the hall was exactly the amount of time it took to depart into a full-fledged panic. There was no doubt in his mind about two things:

1\. Dumbledore was speaking to Rosemary about him (or their situation in general), and

2\. Dumbledore was a Legilimens.

The combination of these most clearly implied disaster.

Thankfully, as he strode into the professor's office, he was able to maintain his calm, cool exterior and bottle his troubling thoughts well below the surface of his mind. He might not be able to protect Rosemary from Dumbledore, but at least he could protect himself – after all, he had been practicing Occlumency for precisely this type of moment.

"I appreciate both of you taking the time to meet with me before your weekend begins…"

_Can't we merely skip the bullshit and get straight to it?_

"…there are just a few changes I'd like to bring to your attention before we announce them to the rest of the school."

_Great._

"This goes without saying, of course, but this is a confidential matter at the moment and you'll be expected to keep it to yourselves."

_Why did that seem to be directed more at me than at Rosemary? Who would I even tell?_

"It appears as though Grindelwald's forces are turning much of their attention to Britain. As a result, the Ministry has decided to send a fleet of Dementors to monitor the grounds and protect the school. It's quite unlikely, of course, that any students will come into contact with one, but it's certainly something to be aware of."

_Have things really gotten to a bad enough point to warrant the use of Dementors?_

"We will also be restricting Hogsmeade visits. Rather than once a month, they will now be held every two months."

Tom was unfazed by this news, as he had gained special privileges to leave the school essentially whenever he wished by Dippet because of his involvement in the Tournament.

"In addition, Headmaster Dippet has suggested a change in faculty. Professor Merrythought has been looking to retire for quite some time, you see…We had attempted to find a replacement before the beginning of the term, but the answer was in front of us the entire time!"

_Oh no…_

"We've decided to allow her to retire and, because of my involvement with these new security efforts at Hogwarts, I will be accepting his responsibilities for the course."

All of the other changes were fine – he could accept it without a problem. But _this_? Defense Against the Dark Arts was, to him, a sacred subject. It was the closest thing he could actually get to learning the Dark Arts in a classroom setting. And now, _Dumbledore_, the wizard he detested most of all, was going to teach it?!

"But Sir," he couldn't help but begin to protest, "who will teach Transfiguration, then?"

Dumbledore smiled. "It just so happens that my cousin Gunnilda is very accomplished in the field of Transfiguration and has agreed to fill the post."

Dumbledore…teaching his favorite subject…and his _relative_ teaching another...

If anything was a sign that he should drop out of Hogwarts right then and there and pursue Tournament training full time, it was this.

The news was nearly enough to throw him into an all-out rage, but he bit his tongue and simmered in silence.

"I believe that's all, if I remember correctly."

_Oh, really? That's _all? _There's nothing else that you'd like to ruin?_

"We'll be announcing all of this to the other students first thing on Monday morning. Do you have any questions about these changes?"

Rosemary shook her head and Tom did nothing, except ensure that his face was still blank; that was all he really trusted himself to do at this point.

"Well, then I wish the two of you an enjoyable weekend."

Rosemary left first and Tom followed behind her, until he heard Dumbledore say: "Tom – a moment, if you would."

He gritted his teeth together and stopped in the doorway, wondering how much more frustration he could possibly take.

"It has come to my attention that you've received permission from Headmaster Dippet to attend quite a few events that take place outside of the school's grounds."

Did he really _have_ to use that condescending voice with its hints of scolding and disappointment every time he spoke to him? He spoke as though Tom was constantly doing something wrong, when really all he had done was ask for a goddamn permission slip. What a miserable, ancient piece of –

"I'm afraid that the restrictions we're placing upon the other students also apply to you, Tom. Unfortunately, we cannot simply allow you to come and go from the grounds as you please."

Apparently he was wrong earlier, when he thought that Dumbledore was through ruining things for the day.

"But it's for the Tournament!" he protested. "And not just trainings – I'm _working_ for a sponsor," he added haughtily.

"Be that as it may, until you graduate you are first and foremost a Hogwarts student. Your safety must be ensured."

"I can ensure my _own_ safety. If you remember correctly, I _did _make it to nearly the final rounds of the Tournament last summer…" He was aware of how incredibly arrogant he sounded, but found it hard to care when he was speaking to someone as apparently clueless as Dumbledore was about him. How long would it take to make the miserable old fool understand that Tom's magical knowledge had already surpassed some of the best wizards in the country – no – all of _Europe?_

Dumbledore chuckled as though Tom had just said something incredibly naïve, which of course brought his anger to an entirely new level. Then he turned serious once more, and a pitying look (which Tom didn't believe for even a moment) appeared in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Tom. But you'll have to pick up where you left off at the end of the term."

He stood there for a moment, looking at the old man and seething silently. He wished there was a way for him to express just how much he hated Dumbledore that wouldn't get him expelled. Left with few options that might actually be satisfying in some way, he narrowed his eyes and said, "We'll just see about that," before turning on his heel and striding angrily from the office.

* * *

Later that night, as Tom relaxed in bed with his arm curled around Rosemary, he found it difficult to experience anything even remotely close to a good mood. This would have been surprising if one considered only what he had done in the last half hour: snogging her. But of course, he found it difficult to keep the thoughts of his encounter with Dumbledore (and his outrage on the matter) from creeping back into his mind.

"Have you ever produced a corporeal Patronus?" she asked him suddenly, providing a distracting refuge from his brooding thoughts.

"Yes." It was a lie; he had attempted to several times with no results. His apparent incompetency had been frustrating at the time, but he attributed it primarily to the fact that he found the spell rather worthless and unnecessary. Or perhaps he had simply delved too far into the Dark Arts and made too many morally questionable decisions to be considered "worthy" of the spell's protection. "Have you?" he asked her.

She nodded. "When we learned about them just before Christmas last year, I was determined to find out what mine would be. I spent the entire holiday practicing."

He looked at her expectantly. "What is it?"

Rosemary rested her head on his chest. "A fox."

He stroked her hair and smiled to himself. It _did_ suit her: she was clever, graceful, competitive, and quick-tempered.

"What's yours?" she asked in return.

"A serpent," he told her. Although he obviously had no way of actually knowing what his Patronus would be, this seemed like the safest bet.

Thankfully, she took the bait. "Well, that certainly makes sense…you _are _the heir of Slytherin, after all."

As she settled in again against his chest, his mind flitted back to that awful professor once more. He tried to tell himself that he should just enjoy this time with her instead of bringing up some topic that would only serve to bolster his irritation. However, there was one thing they _needed_ to talk about.

"You need to avoid Professor Dumbledore," he said plainly.

She looked up at him curiously, probably wondering where in the world his statement had come from. "How exactly do you suggest I do that? Quit going to class?"

"Obviously not," he rolled his eyes slightly at her sass. "But you do need to keep yourself out of direct conversations with him."

"And why might that be?"

"Have you ever heard of Legilimency, Rosemary?"

Upon hearing his question, she sat up and threw him a dirty look. She had always gotten so terribly offended whenever he made even the slightest suggestion that she didn't know something. It was both tiresome and endearing, as it largely reminded him of himself.

Tom continued: "Well, I have reason to believe that Dumbledore is a Legilimens."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "So? Do you think he would actually use it on a student?"

"Yes," he told her with certainty. "Did he make a lot of eye contact with you when you were speaking to him? More than usual?"

"I suppose…I don't know…I mean, he made an odd comment about you when we finished talking that I don't think he would have made if he knew."

"What comment?" Tom demanded.

She bit her lip in hesitation, but finally answered him: "Well, I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it, but he told me to let him know if you were bothering me."

Tom might have bothered with getting offended if his frustration with the old fool hadn't already reached its maximum. After all, how could he say that and _not_ mean something?

"Perhaps he was just saying all of that to cover up the fact that he knew," Tom suggested.

"Maybe…Did he bring anything about it up to you when he spoke with you alone? How are you so sure he might have seen it in my mind instead of yours?"

"I've been practicing Occlumency. I could teach you, as well."

"Really? That _would_ be quite an amazing skill to learn…" Her face quickly moved from surprise and admiration to entirely distraught and on the verge of tears. "But it's probably too late now, anyway! Oh Tom, I hope he didn't see anything. If I've ruined everything, I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself…"

He suddenly felt a desperate urgency to comfort her, which was perhaps unsurprising considering the fact that he had been the one to get her so worked up in the first place. In this urgency, he somehow allowed a few unintended words to slip from his mouth: "I'm sure he didn't see anything, but it certainly wouldn't hurt to check. I'll make sure he doesn't know."

Tom held his breath while he watched the understanding dawn in Rosemary's eyes. "You've been studying Legilimency too, haven't you?"

He nodded once slowly, nervous of her reaction. Surely she would accuse him of reading her thoughts without her permission: precisely the reason he had been so hesitant to tell her of his new skill in the first place.

It was because of this expectation that he was entirely blindsided when her face broke into a wide grin and her eyes began sparkling with pure admiration. "Tom! That's amazing! Can you do it without being detected?" she asked him eagerly.

This was why he loved her (well, at least one of the seemingly infinite reasons): she, like himself, was one of those rare people that truly appreciated magic.

He nodded. "Most of the time. I can perform the spell non-verbally now, which helps quite a bit."

"You can do it _non-verbally_?"

At this rate, by the end of the conversation there would be a good chance that his ego wouldn't even fit in the room.

He nodded with a smirk and she clapped her hands together gleefully. "That's amazing," she repeated. "You _have_ to try it on me!"

Even in her enthusiasm, he hadn't expected her to say _that_. But, it was quite tempting…and she _had_ asked for it. "Alright," he told her, sitting up and facing her. "I'll ask you a question. That always makes it easier to find something worthwhile…"

She glared at him.

"- not that any of your thoughts aren't," he added quickly. Her face softened and he continued, using the first question that popped into his mind: "Now, then. What is the memory you use to create your Patronus?"

Out of habit, she opened her mouth to answer him, but closed it when she realized what she was doing. His dark eyes gazed into her deep blue ones as he non-verbally casted the spell, allowing himself to pour into her mind.

There was a memory waiting for him at the front of her mind, of course. He peered into it, instantly recognizing the snow-covered path and wrought iron gate that led to Hogsmeade. There were two people walking toward him in the distance and he squinted his eyes to make out their faces, only to realize that it was he and Rosemary.

They grew closer and closer until finally arriving at the gate, where Rose promptly stopped and began smoking her cigarette. He remembered this day vividly in his own memory, of course, but there was something wonderful about being able to see it this way instead.

Tom watched them as they discussed Markus, her parents, and her ambitions. The cautious way they regarded each other felt so foreign, now.

"You would be an excellent Healer, especially with your aptitude at Potions…"

"Really, you think so?"

"I do." Then came his next comment, which he had all but forgotten over the last several months (probably intentionally, as it had been quite forward and embarrassing): "You know, if your parents were to just marry you off someone who doesn't appreciate your natural brilliance, it would be a tragic waste. I truly hope that does not happen."

"Thank you, Tom. That means so much." And then with a laugh: "Bloody hell, you always listen to my rants; I'm not sure how you find the patience. You've been a really good friend to me this year."

And even now, the words _'good friend'_ still made him wince. If it wasn't for what happened next, he would have been entirely depressed for the remainder of that day: Rosemary took a step toward him and kissed him on the cheek, the gesture which had filled him with the most sublime kind of hope.

The memory came to a close and he paused, wishing he didn't have to leave her mind just yet. There was so much to explore – so much that he wanted to see from her point of view. But, he couldn't; that would violate her trust in the worst possible way.

So, instead, he pulled himself from her mind and back into his own.

After a second or two, she asked him, "Did it work? Did you see anything?"

"Could you tell I was there?"

She shook her head and smiled excitedly.

"Why is the memory of that day the one you chose?" he asked her in amusement.

"Well, the holidays began only a couple of weeks after that day. And, as you know, I was dealing with the aftermath of my parents' discovery that Markus and I had split. So when I was attempting to conjure my Patronus, my mind kept going back to how hopeful you made me feel about everything that afternoon. Then I realized that, even though I had fancied you for quite a while before our trip to Hogsmeade, _that_ was the day when I _really_ fell for you."

His love for her swelled so much that it was quite surprising that the room hadn't simply exploded, especially when considering how inflated his ego still was from earlier.

If anything would serve as an adequate distraction from his exchange with Dumbledore, it was his newfound obsession with the stunning glimpse of her mind that he had been afforded. In fact, simply fighting the temptation to look again might be enough of a distraction.

* * *

"_Know this: I am addicted to you. I have tasted your mind, and I cannot forget its flavor." – Anonymous_

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**Woohoo! That's 45 chapters down! Only five more to go until the end of Part I - and there is still SO MUCH to cover! ;D**

**Thank you to all of you that have favorited/followed so far! And, of course, thank you to those of you that have recently reviewed: Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, CharlotteBlackwood, A regrettable decision, RosiePosie15, and lithiumm!(:**


	46. Part I - Weight Of Jealousy

**Hey everyone! Please read my note at the end - there were some important edits of last chapter that I want you to be aware of!(: **

* * *

Weight Of Jealousy

_September 15, 1944_

It was official: Defense Against the Dark Arts had been ruined. If their lesson on Monday had been any indication, Tom found it incredibly unlikely that he would learn anything of interest for the rest of the term. While it was true that Dumbledore knew a great deal on the subject, as much as it pained him to admit, finding a way to trick him into talking about dark magic instead was proving to be quite challenging.

For example, during the first lesson with the decrepit fool, they had spent nearly the entire class discussing _Protego Maxima_, one of the strongest variations of the Shield Charm which was frequently used to protect large areas from dark magic. Tom had raised his hand in the middle of the discussion and, in an attempt to steer the class in a more interesting direction, asked: "Professor Dumbledore, are there any…_loopholes_, let's say, in the charm? Weaknesses in the spell that one should be aware of when attempting to use it?"

With his usual, annoyingly serene smile, the professor said: "Well, that's just it, Tom. If one casts the charm properly, they'll have no need to worry about such a thing."

He didn't buy it for even a second. _Every_ spell had at least one loophole.

"This spell is often cast synchronously with _Fianto Duri_ and _Repello Inimicum _in order to – yes, Tom?"

He had raised his hand once more. "Professor, it seems reasonable to expect that dark magic would have its own version of a protection spell – to protect curses and the like. Would _that_ spell have any weaknesses?"

"That is a very thoughtful point, Tom. However, I am regrettably unable to answer your question; to my knowledge, no such spell exists."

A large part of the remaining class time carried on in this pattern of Tom poking around the subject of dark magic with his questions and Dumbledore avoiding any sort of a direct answer. It was nothing short of exasperating. While Professor Merrythought hadn't been the most influential, she had at least grown quite fond of his charm and often shifted her teaching plans to accommodate nearly anything he requested that they learn. Clearly such times were behind him, now.

But there _was_ a silver lining. He had found that the perfect way to disturb Dumbledore's usually imperturbable façade was to ask him a barrage of questions about Grindelwald. This discovery was made entirely by accident, when Jordan Beckett, a Ravenclaw in his year, asked near the end of class, "Professor Dumbledore, don't you think the Ministry is overreacting a bit? I mean, with the Dementors getting sent to the school?"

Earlier that morning, Dippet and Dumbledore announced their new safety precautions to the school. The halls had since been buzzing with the whispers of alarmed students and the name 'Grindelwald' could be heard from anywhere one went in the castle.

Before the professor had a chance to respond, Olive Hornby piped up. "Of course they aren't. My father – who _works_ in the Ministry – says that if things get much worse, he'll be taking me out of school for the rest of the term."

From the table behind him, he could hear Rose mutter to Faye: "Well, she certainly wouldn't be missed."

In the meantime, the class promptly erupted into hushed discussion about the dark wizard:

"The _Prophet_ said…"

"I don't think they're even _close _to defeating him…"

"I heard that he has hundreds of followers…"

"Well, _my _father says…"

"He's a madman…"

There were also a considerable number of his fellow students throwing questions at Professor Dumbledore:

"Does the Ministry actually have a plan to defeat him?"

"Have you ever met him?"

"If he wins, how will things change at Hogwarts?"

Tom sat in silence, watching Dumbledore's face intently. For a moment that was so small he would have missed it if he had not been looking so carefully for it, a troubled shadow passed over the professor's light blue eyes.

But what he wanted to know was: why?

Surely, after such a cryptic announcement that morning, Dumbledore had to expect at least _some_ questions on the matter…which led Tom to believe that there was a deeper meaning behind the fleeting look on the old man's face. At first, he wondered if Dumbledore believed that the Ministry of Magic _was_ overreacting. But that wouldn't make sense, either – according to Tom's meeting with Minister Spencer-Moon a few weeks prior, it was Dumbledore that was behind all of the changes at Hogwarts. So it had to be something else…

Then, a rather interesting thought popped into his head: perhaps Dumbledore knew something that even the Ministry didn't.

There was no doubt in Tom's mind that Dumbledore had provided the Ministry with at least a modest abundance of information; surely, this had been the reason that the Minister had chosen him to keep the school secure. Otherwise, they would have just sent someone from the Ministry to do the job. This, of course, raised another question: where was he getting all of this information to feed to the Ministry, anyway?

As soon as this flashed across his mind, he knew that his new priority would be to find out whatever it was that the professor might be hiding. This would be easier said than done, of course; Tom wouldn't dare use Legilimency on him until he was absolutely sure he could do so without being detected. After all, he didn't find it entirely unlikely that Dumbledore had been waiting for him to slip up and provide grounds for expulsion for a while now. Nor could Tom rely on his usual, smooth-talking charms to help him – such a task would require much stealthier measures.

It would take some time, but it would be well worth it if it meant that he was one step closer to his goal of defeating Grindelwald; which, thanks to the frequent distractions in the form of Rosemary, was running far behind schedule. However, the announcement to the school and his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Dumbledore on Monday of that week had renewed his drive and inspiration. After all, the sooner Grindelwald was no longer a threat, the sooner Dumbledore would resume his post as their Transfigurations professor and leave the Defense Against the Dark Arts seat vacant (just in time for Tom to graduate and fill it himself).

As such, for the remainder of the week, he had spent much of his free time outlining a plan in his diary, while the memory of his fifth-year self wrote notes in the margins.

But now that it was Friday evening, he would have to put his plotting on hold – the first Slug Club meeting of the year had arrived. Tom had grown to both dread and enjoy the gatherings over the years: it was exceptionally tiring to listen to his classmates drone on about their insignificant lives, but on the other hand, it was in Slughorn's office that he had gotten the chance to meet a few of the most famous magical people of the age.

Unfortunately, it appeared as though it was not going to be one of those nights: instead of inviting someone even remotely well-known, Slughorn had elected to host a group of about ten alumni – most of which had graduated so recently that Tom remembered them.

Of those that he recognized among the group of visitors was Jasper Donohue, though Tom could count the things he knew about him on only one hand:

1\. He was Faye Donohue's older brother.

2\. He was a Slytherin.

3\. He was five years ahead of Tom.

4\. He was a bit of a drug addict, at least when he was in school.

And that was it. So apparently he could count the things he knew about Jasper Donohue on a _partially dismembered_ hand.

Rosemary knew him quite well, of course, as he was swiftly reminded when he watched her greet him with a warm embrace – one that was a little too warm for his taste. He scowled and looked away. Why did Slughorn even invite Jasper in the first place? It wasn't as though he had ever amounted to anything while he was in school, and Tom also found it considerably doubtful that he had accomplished something worthwhile since graduating. Nor did his presence have anything to do with his family name – if the Donohue's were important enough, then Faye would have been a regular attendee to the gatherings.

He looked up once more at Rosemary and Jasper, who had begun speaking quite amicably. There was an immediate, instinctual urge to stride over to them and curl his arm around her waist, asserting the inarguable fact that she was his. He was in the process of fighting this impulse when he witnessed Warren walk over to them and do that very thing. His scowl deepened and he gripped his cocktail class tighter while Warren snaked his arm around Rosemary's back, resting his hand on her lower back.

Clearly, Tom had not been the only one who had been bothered by her little catch-up chat with Faye's brother. If this wasn't infuriating enough, the thought of confronting her about it later certainly was, knowing that she would insist that Warren was merely playing a part.

He forced himself to look away before anyone noticed the fuming look he was sending the three of him and loosened his grip on his glass, realizing his knuckles had turned bright white. He wished he could simply ignore what he had seen and let go of his intrinsic need to possess her, but the only thing that made him feel even marginally better was the idea of hexing both Donohue and Cramer into a coma.

Thankfully, before he decided to go ahead and do so, Slughorn cleared his throat and announced to the room that dinner would begin shortly and that they should all take a seat. Tom slid into a the seat next to Markus and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rosemary, Warren, and Jasper sit diagonally from him, further down the long, mahogany table that just barely fit in Slughorn's office.

As they settled into their places, she glanced up at him suddenly and caught his eye, sneaking him a tiny smile. He attempted to send her one back, but it failed to materialize. He didn't even feel like looking at her, really. It took him a few moments after he looked away from her face to realize the fact that he was actually quite irritated with her too, not just Warren and Jasper. After all, it wasn't as though she seemed to mind being around either of them. It bothered him quite significantly to realize that she was just as happy as ever while he was expected to sit there and accept the all-too-obvious advances of those who didn't deserve even the slightest bit of her attention.

His pride could only handle so much before he finally snapped, after all.

* * *

It was one of those rare, mid-September days that hosted one of the last sizzling bursts of summer. The entire school had migrated outdoors between classes, sprawling out on the parched lawns or fighting for the coveted spaces on the dock to dangle their feet in the icy waters of the Black Lake. Faye and Becca were two of the many sprawlers, while Rosemary sat propped up against a tree a few feet away from them, enjoying its shade.

"Well, _do_ say hello to my dear brother for me…as I'm _clearly_ not worthy enough to attend the magnificent Slug Club," Faye looked at Rosemary crossly, continuing the rant that she had been on about for at least the past ten minutes or so.

"I don't understand why you insist on taking it so personally," Rose rolled her eyes. "I mean, the only reason Markus is ever invited is because Slughorn and his father were dormmates all through their school years."

"But why Jasper, then?" she demanded.

Rose shrugged, turning back to her book. "What has he been up to since he graduated?"

"I don't know," Faye said snottily, as though it was a completely outlandish thing to ask. "I get bored every time he talks about it at home."

"I'm not sure what to tell you, then."

"Aren't you helpful?" Faye sneered at her.

Rosemary was quickly becoming agitated. "Well, how am I supposed to know? Ask Slughorn yourself if you care so much!"

An uncomfortable silence fell between them while Becca buried her face in a book, pretending that she hadn't been listening. Rosemary began mentally preparing herself for a standoff with Faye…until she realized that she wasn't exactly in a position to risk their friendship.

"I'm sorry," she forced herself to say. "I haven't been myself lately…Tom and all…"

Thankfully, that was all Faye needed to hear. Rosemary absolutely loathed the pitying look that she was subsequently given, but at least she had averted the potential loss of one of her few remaining friends.

Eager to get off the topic, she said, "We should do something tonight, after I finish up at Slughorn's. Just the three of us."

Merlin knew how much she desperately needed it. She was beginning to go mad from spending day after day with Warren to keep up with their charade – after all, one could only stand so much talk of Quidditch (which meant quite a bit coming from the girl whose father was a professional player for several years). And, as much as she cherished every moment she was able to spend with Tom, he had been in a rather awful mood lately. She thought it might be best to give him some time alone, in hopes that it might eventually blow over.

Faye and Becca exchanged a nervous glance and then quickly looked away from each other as though they were worried that Rosemary had noticed it. "What?" she asked them.

"Well, we sort of already have plans…" Becca said.

Faye finished explaining: "We're hosting a party with the Slytherins."

"Thanks for the invitation," Rosemary glared at both of them, wounded from this stab of rejection.

"We just thought it might be…uncomfortable," Rebecca muttered, exchanging another quick glance with Faye.

Faye checked her watch before she suddenly stood and began brushing off her skirt, which most likely meant that it was time to make their way to Charms. "You're more than welcome to come, Rose. I just couldn't think of a reason you'd honestly want to."

She was right, of course. Nearly the entire female population of the Slytherin house now had a vendetta against her, thanks to Olive Hornby (well, that was what she suspected at least). While the rumors about her were beginning to become old news and die their natural death, the acts of defiance toward her power as Head Girl were on the rise. On the days that she decided to be honest with herself, she knew that it was truly becoming a problem; one that desperately called for an assertion of her authority.

Unfortunately, she didn't have the first clue how to go about doing this. Tom was the only person that she believed would know what to do, but the last thing she wanted was to bother him with such a thing when he seemed to have so much on his mind already.

Her worries regarding him were anything but relieved when she and the rest of the Slug Club guests gathered in Slughorn's office later that evening. She could feel his eyes on her as she greeted Jasper with a hug and began chatting with him. Then, of course, Warren joined them and introduced himself to Jasper just before putting his arm around Rosemary's waist. Surely, none of this had done much in the way of alleviating Tom's recent moodiness.

Even with this in the back of her mind, she allowed herself to become momentarily absorbed in her conversation with Faye's brother, who she hadn't seen in at least a couple of years. The fact that they had very little in common to discuss was irrelevant to her delight in their chat – the simple reality of speaking to someone who didn't know about the drama in her life was incredibly refreshing all on its own.

"What have you been up to, Horton? Slug says you're quite the Potions prodigy…"

"She is," Warren confirmed, with a nod of his head. Rosemary fought an annoyed eye-roll. While she knew that he was doing his best to convince everyone that they were indeed going steady, she could certainly do without his constant hovering. Then again, she wasn't really in the sort of situation that would afford complaints – he _was _doing her a favor.

Rosemary ignored Warren and said, "Oh, you know…just finishing up school and the like. And you? How is life as an alumnus?"

"I can't complain too much," he shrugged. "I traveled quite a bit right after graduation – South America, Australia, and Africa. Then I came back to London, began working for Mr. Mulpepper's in Diagon Alley as their lead herbologist, and adopted a very adult, mundane way of life."

From what Rosemary knew about him, she truly doubted that his 'adult' way of life came anywhere remotely close to the norm. Jasper had always been the perpetual child of the Donohue family; even Faye (who was certainly not known for her maturity), was generally more in touch with reality than he was. Even so, the fact that he had stayed in one place long enough to secure a job had come as a bit of a surprise.

Each conversation in the room came to an abrupt halt when Slughorn informed them that dinner would begin shortly. She took the nearest seat at the table and Jasper and Warren sat on either side of her. It was then that she chanced another look at Tom, this time offering him a small smile in the hope of calming him somewhat. However, instead of the shadow of at least a forced smile that she had expected, she was met with a steely glare and the subsequent turn of his head.

Rosemary couldn't quite place why, but for one reason or another, this set off her temper in the worst way. It was clear that he became jealous every time Warren was around her. But when would he finally get over it? They had only gotten through two weeks of class and had quite a few to go before they could put an end to the act, after all. Did he really have to make things so difficult? They were already difficult enough!

She fumed all through dinner and was both relieved and apprehensive when it finally ended; relieved, because she was itching to get Slug Club over with, and apprehensive, because its end meant talking to Tom about whatever it was that was bothering him. After thanking Slughorn for the invitation, she ducked out of his office and discovered that Warren had been waiting for her. She had to admit, he _was_ quite good at playing the part of the proper, gentlemanly boyfriend. He kindly offered to escort her back to her dormitory, but she politely turned him down as she was in desperate need of a few moments alone to clear her head before speaking with Tom.

Warren gave her his typical, friendly smile and told her goodnight before she started down the corridor toward the staircase that would lead her from the dungeons. Just as she was about to reach it, she heard someone call her name from behind.

Rosemary spun around to see Jasper walking toward her and immediately felt guilty for failing to remember to tell him goodbye. Thankfully, he didn't seem to be put off.

"Are you coming to Faye's party tonight?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "Probably not." Then, with a trace of surprise, as it was rather difficult to imagine a wizard in his mid-twenties attending a Hogwarts house party: "Are _you_?"

He nodded and grinned. "Just for a bit. I figure I should at least try and see her before heading back to London. You should drop by, though."

"We'll see," she said noncommittally, even though there wasn't even a small part of her that was actually considering it.

He grinned again, and when he did, she realized the many similarities between his and Faye's faces. There were only a few minute differences: Jasper's light blue eyes were just slightly wider-set, his chin was a little less pointy, and his cheekbones were more clearly defined. If he had been born a few years prior, they could have passed for twins. "Well, it was nice talking with you, Horton. I'm sure we'll speak again soon."

If their lack of speaking history was any indication, Rose seriously doubted this, but she smiled and nodded at him anyway.

When she returned to her dormitory for the evening, she was surprised to find that Tom wasn't already there waiting for her. She walked briskly across the hall and began knocking persistently on his door. He opened it, after a solid minute or so, and gave her that same, steely look that had set her off the first time.

"What are you on about?" she demanded, letting herself into his room.

"I'm not at all sure what you're referring to." His voice was cold, removed. It made her even angrier.

"This! This is what I'm talking about. You've been acting differently ever since this arrangement with Warren began…" She didn't dare to utter the word 'jealous'.

His eyes narrowed at her as his voice became even colder: "And what exactly did you expect? That I would be overcome with gratitude?"

"No. But I didn't expect that you'd act like such a child about it, either." Her eyes widened, realizing the words that had just escaped from her lips.

He didn't hesitate before sneering at her: "Yes, clearly _I'm _the childish one."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're just upset because reality doesn't line up with the perfect little world in your head. Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I will _never_ be happy with this situation."

"That's not why I'm upset," she snapped. "I'm upset because it seems as though I'm the one making all the sacrifices while you refuse to accept just _one_ thing."

"Accept what? The fact that I have to sit back and watch while that git is parading you around like you're his? And what sacrifices, Rosemary?"

"Yes, Tom, that's _exactly _what you're supposed to accept. _That is the plan_ _we agreed on_," she told him snidely. "And are you joking?"

He looked at her and shrugged. "It certainly looks as though you're always having a good time with him…" Then, he added sarcastically: "What a selfless sacrifice."

"Do you have any idea what I've been through?" she asked him, her voice rising quickly. "I've lost a friend that I've known since first year –"

"A _half-blood_," he pointed out coldly.

She glared at him, and continued: "Absolutely no one in Slytherin house respects me, Warren is driving me mad, and the entire school has been talking about me for two weeks straight." Her voice finally reached a yell: "And _you're _telling me I haven't made a sacrifice? Have you forgotten that, at the end of all this, I'm giving up my _family_, too?"

"I've never asked you to do any of those things," Tom snapped.

Rosemary instantly felt like she was going to be sick. How could someone who claimed to love her be so harsh at the same time? She wished she could think up some quick retort in that moment, but her mind was spinning too fast. Not to mention the fact that absolutely nothing would win against him when he was acting like this.

But maybe there was some truth to what he said. After all, she _did_ know the consequences of being with him…perhaps it had been unfair of her to blame him in a way for them. He was right – he had never asked her to do any of it. It had always been her decision. Maybe she just hadn't reached the point of accepting that this was the way things were going to be until they could truly be together.

She felt her anger drop away from her as she stared down at her feet and said, "You're right. I'm sorry."

Tom stepped toward her and tilted her chin up so her eyes met his. They were very dark, as usual – almost black. As she examined them, she couldn't help but notice that there was something missing: they were cold and unapologetic, and lacked any of the softness they usually held when he looked at her. It was rather frightening, in a way.

Rosemary experienced the sudden urge to be alone, to regather her composure and straighten out her thoughts. She stepped away from him, mumbling something about getting a start on her homework for the weekend, and turned toward the door. Just as she placed her hand on the handle, he strode up behind her and placed his hand over her own.

When he spoke again, it was with authority: "I'm not finished."

* * *

"_Of course I love you. I'm giving up my life to be with you, aren't I?" – Matthew Weiner_

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**I know, I know. I'm the worst. :/ So sorry for the super crazy delayed update. I had literally the worst case of writers block EVER, plus zero motivation to get any writing done.**

**As mentioned at the top of the chapter, there are some important edits that I wanted to bring to your attention. My good friend CharlotteBlackwood pointed out a couple of things about the last chapter that needed to be fixed, so I went in a changed a couple of things. First off, the previous DADA professor was Merrythought, whose existence I had all but completely forgotten. D: Also, she pointed out that it is mathematically impossible for Dumbledore to have taught both Transfigurations and DADA. Because of this, I altered it so he is now only teaching DADA and his cousin, Gunnilda, will be teaching Transfigurations. I did do these edits fairly soon after posting the chapter, so you might have already read the edited version anyway, but I just wanted to bring it to the attention of those of you that hadn't seen it yet! Thanks again for pointing those things out, Charlotte! And it was great meeting up with you this week.(:(:**

**Thanks as well to all of you lovelies that submitted reviews on the last chapter: Mrs. TomMarvoloRiddle, A regrettable decision, How910, CharlotteBlackwood, RosiePosie15, and klandgraf2007!**

**Four more chapters to go until the end of Part I! There definitely won't be as much of a delay between this and the next chapter, as I've already begun writing it.**

**LAST THING! I just want to take a moment to thank ALL of you that have stuck with this fic so far. I know that it's been a long, not totally in-character version of Tom, but that is all about to change VERY VERY soon. Your patience means the world to me...and it will pay off - I promise. :D**


	47. Part I - Power Struggle

Power Struggle

_September 15, 1944_

"I'm not finished," he told her in a low, smooth voice. She could feel his breath against her ear as he stepped closer to her, curling his fingers around her wrist and removing her hand from the doorknob.

Rosemary began turning around to face him, but Tom took another step closer to her instead. The gap of space between their bodies diminished rapidly and she suddenly found herself pressed up against the cold, stone wall. He stood behind her, his hands began running up and down the sides of her body. Her mind began to spin as she felt the growing erection in his trousers (which was somewhat impressive, considering the fact that the dress she had worn to Slug Club had several layers of fabric).

What in the bloody hell was happening? Hadn't they been fighting just minutes before? Was this supposed to be some sort of make-up sex? If so, she wasn't sure she was in the mood – they hadn't exactly ended the conversation on a good note…

While these thoughts flashed through her mind, Tom's hands slid underneath the skirt of her dress. She closed her eyes as they traveled up her legs, over her hips and back to her bum before a single finger glided between her legs to feel her through her knickers.

Well, perhaps she _was_ in the mood.

He brushed her hair to the side and kissed the back of her neck. Her eyes were still closed when he slowly stepped away from her and by the time she turned around and opened them, he was sitting at the edge of his bed. She couldn't help but notice that same, eerie look in his eyes for the second time that evening. He seemed distant somehow; removed.

"Undress."

It was a command. Not a request.

His demeanor continued to puzzle her, but, admittedly, his tone of authority was quite attractive. And so, she obeyed him, slipping off her heels and unzipping her dress before finally allowing it to fall to her feet. Rosemary started toward him, essentially ready to jump on him at this point, until his cool voice stopped her abruptly: "All the way."

Her eyes were fixed on his as she slipped out of her lingerie, tossing it in the general direction of her dress and shoes. Finally, she stood completely exposed before him. She watched his face as his eyes scanned her, though his face was still unreadable. And then, with a twitch at the corner of his mouth as though he might smirk, he said: "Good girl."

Rosemary was relieved that he finally seemed satisfied. Thinking that it might finally be her turn to tease him in return, she strode up to the bed and traced her fingers down his chest while sporting the most seductive look in her eyes that she possibly could. Her hand dropped lower and lower, and she was about to reach his trousers when he caught her wrist. She wasn't sure exactly how it happened, but after one quick motion, he was on top of her and pinning her arms down near either side of her head.

There was another glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes as he looked up at her, just before he bowed his head and traced his tongue from her collarbone to the top of her right breast. His teeth, lips, and tongue entertained her hardened nipple and she emitted an involuntary groan of pleasure. He switched to her left side as she felt herself begin to grow wet for him.

As if he had somehow sensed this, Tom let go of one of her arms and brought his hand between her legs. Her eyes rolled in ecstasy as a solitary finger grazed the sensitive ridge on the way down and once again when the same finger slid inside of her.

Rose began to lose herself in the rhythm of his touch and was quickly growing close to a climax. If there had been any doubt in her mind earlier, there was none any longer – she wanted him, and that was that.

Just as she was about to be sent over the edge with pleasure, he removed his finger and briskly climbed off the bed, pulling her to her feet. The sudden withdrawal of stimulation when she was so close to an orgasm already was nearly too much to handle; she felt her knees wobble, but he steadied her with his strong hands, turning her back toward the bed and bending her over it.

"Spread your legs," he commanded her. She did as she was told, growing even wetter in anticipation of what she knew was coming when she could hear the clinking of his belt and unzipping of his trousers.

He pressed his throbbing cock against her and she braced herself for his entrance, but there was no need – instead, he began to tease her, lightly tracing her opening with his member. She was so caught up in her desire for him that she couldn't help but let out one moan after another.

"Say it," he told her.

Rose didn't have the first clue what he meant; what he wanted her to say. There was only one thing running through her mind: "I want you."

"You _want_ me?" he said it with incredulity, as though she had said something ridiculous. As he spoke, he pressed himself just barely inside of her.

"I need you," she corrected rapidly, praying that he would press deeper inside of her.

"Who do you belong to?" he demanded.

"You," she breathed between moans, delirious with pleasure.

"That's exactly right." His hands grasped her hips suddenly. "Don't _ever_ forget it."

Rosemary let out an involuntary, sharp gasp as he slid himself all of the way inside of her.

As her noises of pleasure filled the room and he thrusted into her over and over again, she found herself lose track of time. She hadn't the slightest clue how long they had gone when they finally finished – it could have been anywhere from two minutes to two hours; everything was a blur.

She climbed back into bed with him and pulled his arm around her as he fell asleep almost instantly. Rose found it hard to keep her eyes open at first, but as the effects of her climax slowly wore off, all of the little thoughts that had fled her mind during her state of pleasure came wandering back into her consciousness.

A sickening feeling appeared in the pit of her stomach without warning: were things between them actually okay? It suddenly seemed so wrong that they had been so intimate after one of their worst fights to date. And what exactly had been going on inside Tom's mind? What were the thoughts behind all of those strange looks?

Truthfully, she was afraid to ponder any of it in much depth at all. What if, somehow, things had changed between them permanently? As this thought danced across her mind, the nauseous feeling in her stomach continued to spread.

And then there was the sex itself…while she certainly hadn't minded the fact that Tom had taken complete control of her, there was a part of her that worried it might be a sign that things had indeed changed between them. After all, what she had just experienced was quite a stark departure from their normal, much gentler intimate encounters. What if, because of their most recent argument, he had lost respect for her in some way and that had been his way of showing it? She shivered; the thought alone was traumatic.

Rosemary tried to force these troubling thoughts from her mind in a sad attempt at sleep, mustering all the hope she possibly could and telling herself that she was wrong: that she and Tom had not changed.

By the time she awoke the following morning, Tom had already gone and she found that she had sprawled herself out, invading his side of the bed. She shifted her head to his pillow and inhaled, while his attractive scent filled her nose. Rosemary felt quite content, really: she was lying in Tom's bed, it was the weekend, and they were one day closer to graduation.

Then she remembered the previous night and felt uneasy all over again. Determined not to dwell on it any longer, Rose pulled herself out of bed, telling herself that the tension between them had simply been caused by the additional time she had spent with Warren that week during the Slug Club meeting.

She dressed partially and crossed the hall to her room. Though she had yet to check the time that morning, she knew she had missed breakfast when she saw a cream-colored envelope that had been slipped under her door, presumably by a house-elf. Her stomach dropped when she picked it up and turned it over, instantly recognizing the golden ink and her father's neat handwriting.

Rose hadn't heard from her parents since she left for school, which she had taken to mean that she, Warren, and Tom had done a convincing enough job with their charade. But now, as she held her father's letter in her hands, she couldn't help but fear the worst.

Her heart pounded violently as she forced herself to rip open the envelope.

_Dearest Rosemary,_

_I hope that this letter finds you well and that you've enjoyed your first two weeks of classes. I'm looking forward to hearing all about them next Saturday during Comet's Annual Gala. Speaking of, I discussed the event with Headmaster Dippet and he assured me that you and Warren would be permitted to leave the school grounds, provided that we send someone there to fetch you. Your mother has been working tirelessly in preparation; she purchased your dress just yesterday, I believe…_

She felt her pulse slow back down to a normal rate as her eyes scanned the remainder of his letter. Of course – the Gala! How had she forgotten? She had been forced to attend the event, which celebrated the beginning of Quidditch season, for years. In fact, the only time she could remember that she hadn't attended was the year prior, when she convinced her parents that she had come down with a dreadful stomach flu. Although, the real reason she hadn't gone (besides the fact that she overwhelmingly disliked socializing with the bulk of her parents' friends), was that she hadn't wanted to spend any more time with Markus than was absolutely necessary.

It was rather ironic to realize both how little and how much things had changed since then. She was no longer trapped in a loveless relationship, but was still expected to attend this stupid event with someone she rather wouldn't. A few dozen excuses to give her father in an attempt to get herself out of it flashed through her mind, but she knew that bringing Warren would be an important stride in convincing her parents that they were a legitimate couple.

Though perhaps it wasn't entirely necessary for Tom to know about it.

* * *

_September 19, 1944_

With the first round of scouting events quickly approaching with the coming weekend, finding a way around Dumbledore's outrageous restrictions had become his top priority. Which was precisely why he found himself sitting outside Armando Dippet's office early Tuesday morning.

Tom had knocked on the door and waited for nearly five minutes when Dippet finally appeared at the door. When he noticed Tom sitting outside, he looked considerably surprised, which was rather puzzling until Tom remembered just how awful the Headmaster's hearing was quickly becoming.

"Good morning, Mr. Riddle," Dippet greeted him, recovering somewhat. "Is everything well?"

"Yes. Er, well, I _suppose_ so…I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time, Sir."

Dippet bowed his head slightly and a small smile appeared on his wrinkled face. "Of course."

Once again, Tom was struck with the realization that essentially everyone (with the exception of Dumbledore and Rosemary's parents) was completely charmed by him. He couldn't help but smirk with satisfaction as Dippet led him inside his office.

The older wizard settled into his chair and Tom took a seat across from him. If it had been a normal visit to the Headmaster's office, Tom might have allowed his eyes wander to any of the many curiosities housed within it; but this particular visit called for his full attention. He_ had_ to convince Dippet to allow him off the school grounds, both to assist Beaumont in scouting and for training later in the year. The Tournament had been one of the best, most notable experiences of his life to date, and he wasn't about to allow a year of his potential participation to slip by unutilized. Especially considering the fact that he was convinced he might just win that coming year. But it wasn't all about the Tournament, either; there was a rather large part of him that just wanted to get away from Hogwarts (or, more specifically, encounters involving Rosemary and Warren).

"How can I help you, Mr. Riddle?"

Tom reminded himself that he needed to pace things out; Dippet would not appreciate his persistence right off the bat: "Well, Sir, I suppose that Professor Dumbledore has spoken to you about my request to leave the grounds based on my involvement in the Continental Wizarding Dueling Tournament. I spoke with you about it prior, if you remember –"

"I do," Dippet nodded slowly. "Unfortunately, I do believe that Albus knows best in these matters…"

Tom fought the urge to lock his jaw in irritation.

_And why don't _you_ know what's best for the school? You're the damn Headmaster._

"I completely understand," he somehow forced himself to say. "But I was hoping that you might make an exception…It _is _for the Tournament…"

The Headmaster smiled sadly. "The only exceptions that have been made are to those whose families have made arrangements to retrieve them."

This comment set Tom's temper ablaze in an instant; now he was being discriminated against because of his lack of family or proper guardian? He couldn't even think of anything more offensive. Although, perhaps this apparent loophole to Dumbledore's rule could also work to his advantage.

If anything was a sign of his obstinate desperation to triumph over Dumbledore, it was what he said next: "As you know, Headmaster, these grounds for an exception leave me without a single option…" he paused to let the full effect of these words to sink in and appear on Dippet's face. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to consider my participation in the Tournament's events as long as the sponsor I work with – Raoul Beaumont – would agree to travel with me from Hogwarts?"

"Ah! Raoul; he's such a lively spirit."

"Lively is certainly one way to put it," Tom said with a slight smirk.

"Unfortunately, I believe that is something we still cannot allow…"

He couldn't help but scowl.

"However," Dippet continued, "It may be acceptable if one of the Hogwarts faculty agreed to escort you – Professor Dumbledore, perhaps?"

"Actually, I was thinking Professor Slughorn might find the events more interesting," Tom said quickly in an attempt to hide his disgust at the Headmaster's suggestion.

"Nonsense! Albus is a very accomplished Dueler; he'd surely enjoy himself."

Well, clearly _Tom_ wouldn't be enjoying himself.

While he searched his brain for another reason as to why Dumbledore would be a completely unsuitable chaperone for this particular task, Dippet continued, "Yes…I believe that would be an excellent solution…"

"But if Professor Dumbledore is the head of the school's safety, shouldn't he stay on the grounds?" Tom protested, continuing his attempts to hide his disdain.

Dippet waved a hand nonchalantly. "You'll only be gone a few hours every weekend. I'm sure I can look after the school for that amount of time. It would be a nice break for him."

Tom could see from the satisfied look on the Headmaster's face that his fate had been decided. Unbelievable. He supposed he _had _succeeded in his goal – to attend the scouting and training sessions – but he surely hadn't anticipated them at such a high cost. A few hours. Nearly every weekend for the rest of the term. With Dumbledore.

Then again, he _would_ be fairly preoccupied with helping Beaumont and participating in his own training. Perhaps he wouldn't even notice the old fool's presence at all. How bad could it really be?

It only took a few seconds for his mind to flood with the cynical possibilities. Quite bad; quite bad, indeed.

He was absorbed in dread about this prospect for much of the remaining day; in fact, the only time he could recall thinking about anything else was later that afternoon in the middle of Potions.

"Did you add the lacewing flies?" he asked her as he gave their cauldron a quick counter-clockwise stir and poured in five drops of armadillo bile.

"Yes," she answered without looking at him (as she hadn't all class), staring instead at the potion's swirling mixture of green and blue.

Things had gotten even more complicated between them after the past weekend, so it seemed. During the first two weeks of class, in which they had been made Potions partners as per Professor Slughorn's promise and brewed two potions together, Rosemary had been quite friendly to him in class despite their ongoing façade. But now, the stolen glances and secret smiles when she was sure no one was looking had disappeared and had been replaced with a somewhat distant version of her.

Tom caught a glimpse of the inside of her wrist when she reached up to sprinkle in the dried nettles and swallowed when he noticed the small bruise right beneath her palm. He felt awful immediately, knowing that it was he who had caused it as he pinned her to her bed.

Had he taken things too far? Probably. He had a strong urge to take advantage of his Legilimency prowess and take a quick peek inside her mind to find out what exactly had been going through her mind these past few days, but he had to draw the line somewhere, after all.

Although, even as someone who tended to live with few regrets (which was likely due to his rather significant ego and extraordinary self-confidence), he had thought back to that night several times, wondering if it had been a mistake.

He could remember precisely how he felt after their argument; his anger with her had flowed away, leaving behind only a single impulse. While it was impossible to place its exact origin, something inside him had shifted – he could feel it.

Tom had realized, suddenly, that Rosemary's own impulsiveness and desire to be in control of the situation was the entire reason they were in it to begin with. If she had simply trusted him instead, he would have come up with a much less messy solution and there would have been no need to involve Warren Cramer at all.

Of course, he too was rash and controlling. They really were quite alike, which was a rather conflicting realization. He did enjoy seeing these qualities in her…at least when she interacted with others. They showed off her shimmering self-respect and confidence, which were two of the things he loved most about her.

Unfortunately, it was impossible for him to see the control over their relationship that she had seized in the same light. He knew instantly that this dynamic would have to change if their relationship was to survive. He could not allow her to continue making decision after decision without so much as discussing it with him first. It was _he _who needed to be in charge. Not her.

And so, the impulse to educate her of this shift had been born. It would have been quite satisfying to inform her that he had thought of a better solution that didn't require Warren, but he regrettably felt as though they had gone too far down that particular path already to change direction. Instead, he had gone about it in the only way he could think of at the time.

Tom had never meant to disrespect her, of course, though he dreaded that this had indeed been a consequence. He was certainly beginning to get the feeling that he would need to talk to her about it at some point if she didn't put an end to her detached attitude soon; as strongly as his gut was telling him that he needed to have at least the majority of control, it would become irrelevant if he allowed himself to do irreparable damage.

* * *

"_Is it sick of me to need control of you? Is it sick to make you beg the way I do?" – Maria Brink_

* * *

**Thanks so much to those of you that reviewed last chapter: Mrs. TomMarvoloRiddle, CharlotteBlackwood, Guest, silverfox1611, RosiePosie15, and A regrettable decision!**

**OMG, 3 chapters left in Part I! And there is still SO MUCH that has to happen!(:(: I'm so excited to share it with you all.**

**So, on an entirely unrelated note, my friend CharlotteBlackwood started posting a review prompt at the end of each chapter of her AMAZING fic, (seriously, you should totally go check it out) Craving Comfort. While I'm not going to make this a regular feature on this fanfic (as I believe I would probably lack the creativity/energy to come up with a prompt after finishing a chapter), all of hers DID inspire me to try it out this once. So! Here goes:**

**What is Tom Riddle's favorite flavor of ice cream? I mean, c'mon...even Dark Lords gotta love ice cream. **


	48. Part I - Comet Confession

Comet Confession

_September 23, 1944_

Comet's banquet hall was nearly unrecognizable, though that came as no surprise – an expansion charm had been placed upon it in order to accommodate the number of guests that were expected to attend. The walls had also been adorned with more than a hundred World Cup banners from her father's collection, a few of them dating back as far as the very first match in 1473.

Well above the crowd, charmed Comet brooms raced across the ceiling, which had been enchanted to take on the appearance of the night sky. Occasionally they would dart across the room in various Quidditch formations and Rosemary pretended to listen as Warren pointed up at them every so often, proudly reciting the name of each flying pattern. Once or twice, she caught a glint of the elusive snitch that her father had released prior to the guests' arrival, the captor of which would earn two seats in the Top Box during the next World Cup.

Warren, Rosemary, Evelyn, Keitch and his fiancé, and the Minister for Magic all sat at a table in the front of the room. Scattered at the other tables around them were dozens of Comet's employees and their families, Basil's old Quidditch mates, investors, several individuals that worked for the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and really everyone else that had any sort of tie to the company. As could be expected, the space was filled with amicable chatter, but all of it came to an abrupt halt and turned into applause as her father arrived at the front podium.

"Good evening, friends, and welcome to Comet Trading Company's Fifteenth Annual Gala!" Another round of applause filled the room and Basil paused while it slowly abated. "I'm grateful to report that we have had another excellent year. I owe that, of course, to our dedicated staff…but also to my family." He turned his head slightly to look at Rose and Evelyn and gave them a soft smile. "Comet would not be where it is today without your tireless support..."

Rosemary felt a twinge of guilt within her, even though he said the same thing just about every year. It occurred to her that this very well might be the last Comet Annual Gala that she ever attended. However, the sadness that began to sting within her at this thought had nothing to do with the event itself and had everything to do with the fact that it would be one of the few remaining times that she would see her parents (at least while they were still on good terms). As much as she tried to tell herself that Tom was the only real family that she needed and that any semblance of closeness with her parents over the years had been nothing but an illusion, these sentimental pains kept creeping back to her consciousness from time to time.

"…While Comet's success is certainly a reason for celebration, Quidditch is the true focus of this evening. There is no other sport that brings people together quite like it, which is exactly what we need in these troubling times. Thank you." After one last round of clapping and a slight bow of his head, he announced: "And now a few words from my dear friend, Randolph Keitch."

Basil stepped down from the podium and Keitch replaced him on the stage. While he was met with a considerable amount of applause, it was nothing like her father had received, probably due to the fact that Basil had always kept much more involved with the day-to-day operations of the company than the other co-founder.

Keitch carried on for a few minutes on generally the same topic that Basil had, while the crowd listened politely. However, when he finally finished, the guests wasted no time starting in with their own conversations or venturing out to the bar and the dance floor as music began to play.

Rosemary quickly became rather annoyed with the way that Warren was loitering near her, but she caught herself, remembering the fact that he was her date. It was sad, really, how much of a toll his favor to her was taking on their friendship. After all, she used to quite like spending time around him; now it was just a necessity.

"Want a drink?" he asked her finally, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them.

She nodded and attempted to smile gratefully, but her face felt rigid and her expression rather bitchy. Thankfully, as he started away from her toward the bar, no one approached her to take his place at the seat beside her. As she was in no mood to entertain trivial conversation, this came as an enormous gift.

Rosemary scanned the room and her eyes fell first upon the circle of women near the dance floor, which included her mother. Collectively, they were the wives of the pureblood elite. Envied by many, they wore the finest dresses, conversed with only the most important people, and lived nothing short of extravagantly. She watched in disgust as they exchanged their phony cackles and compliments, knowing full well that each of these women, just like her mother, would return home later that evening and ruthlessly gossip about every single one of the others. Their world was one of endless competition; there was no room for genuine friendship.

It struck Rose in that moment that it had been quite foolish for her mother to give up the love of her life for such a shallow, pallid existence. Fortunately for her, she would not be making the same mistake.

Her eyes traveled next to her father, who was giving an impromptu flying lesson to a boy that looked to be around the age of five or six, while his parents looked on in awe. It had always been rather odd for Rosemary to see her parents through the eyes of others at events such as this one, portrayed as one of the most admired couples in wizarding Britain. To her, they had always been Basil and Evelyn: her strict, yet accomplished parents.

The look on her father's face as the boy flew in messy circles around him was nothing short of delighted. She sat back in her chair and eyed them sullenly; perhaps when her parents disowned her, they would decide to have another child. After all, her father had _clearly_ always wanted a boy, but her mother had insisted upon only having one child so as not to ruin her carefully preserved figure. Perhaps when Rosemary was gone from their lives, she would give in to his wishes.

By this time, Rosemary was truly beginning to crave the cocktail that Warren had promised her. She scanned the bar impatiently, finally spotting Warren in the middle of a conversation with the Minister for Magic. An odd feeling of resentment washed over her as she watched them; that was supposed to be _Tom_, not Warren.

Suddenly, she felt as though she needed some air; she left the party while Warren and her parents' backs were turned, striding briskly into the corridor before they spotted her. She read the sign next to each door that she passed even though she had no need to; she knew the location of nearly every room at Comet. The rooms surrounding the party belonged primarily to the Marketing Department. These offices were of little interest to her, so her legs carried her instead downstairs to the Experimental Models Division.

She muttered the same password that Warren had earlier that summer and was pleased to find that it had not been changed. As she stepped inside, she was instantly drawn to the nearest Storm-Box. Rosemary took out her wand and said a quick charm to wake it up, as it had been shut off for the weekend.

"Snow," she commanded it.

Rose smiled to herself and summoned a nearby chair as wintery clouds began billowing inside of the glass. As she watched the storm pick up momentum, she lost track of time; some whisper in the back of her mind wondered if it had been minutes or perhaps hours since she had sat down in front of it. She realized that she truly did not care; all she wanted was to be back at school with Tom.

Although, it wasn't as though _he_ was currently at Hogwarts, either. He would be busy much of the weekend with a few of the Tournament scouting events. She knew it was terrible for her to do so, but she couldn't help but smirk at the thought of him spending the entire weekend with Professor Dumbledore, the wizard he detested most of all. Tom had spent nearly an hour ranting about it on Friday evening, though in a way, it had worked out; he was so preoccupied with his discontent over Dumbledore accompanying him to the scouting events that he didn't even seem to mind when she finally told him about the Gala.

Even so, it had seemed like an odd conversation. While he was surprisingly understanding of the fact that attending the party would solidify the lie to her parents quite nicely, his attitude toward all of it made her feel as though she was asking his permission. This made her a tad uncomfortable, considering the fact that, in reality, this was not the case; she was merely informing him of her intent and hoping that he would accept it. Perhaps it had just been a misunderstanding between them – after all, it felt as though they had had quite a few of them, lately.

She sighed and told herself once more that everything would be perfect again as soon as their final year at Hogwarts came to an end.

"There you are," a voice said from behind her, causing her to jump.

It was Warren, of course. She would have wondered how he had possibly found her, but he seemed to have gotten exceptionally skilled at it these past few weeks. No matter how carefully she slipped through the halls of Hogwarts, he managed to stumble upon her; she might have considered it somewhat disturbing if these instances didn't seem to occur entirely by chance for the most part.

"Is something wrong?" he asked her, handing her a cocktail.

She realized that she was scowling slightly at him in irritation because he had interrupted her viewing of the perfect snowstorm, but then she reminded herself that _she _was the one being an awful date and her face softened. "No," she lied, standing to face him while raising the cool glass to her lips and taking a cautious sip. Relief washed over her as she realized that it was a simple gin and tonic.

At least he knew what she drank – he had that going for him, if nothing else.

He gave her a doubting look. "Then why aren't we upstairs dancing?"

She looked away from his blue-green eyes, unable to come up with a decent explanation. He made a valid point and she felt instantly guilty because of it. They _were_ friends. Why was she being so selfish, lately? Why was it so impossible to simply enjoy the company of one of her oldest friends without feeling suffocated?

For all of her irritability with him these past few weeks, she supposed that she at least owed him the truth. "I'm sorry," she started. "It's just…Tom and all…Things are just complicated." Rose took another drink from her cocktail and added: "…As you know."

He nodded, growing quiet for a few moments. Then, out of seemingly nowhere, he asked: "He's a half-blood, isn't he?"

"No," she lied to him again. Her answer was quick and automatic; this time, she could hear the immediate uneasiness in her voice.

Warren tilted his head slightly and gave her a look of suspicion.

She sighed and looked at her hands. "Yes. How did you know?"

"Why else would your parents so stubbornly disapprove of him? Isn't he the ideal suitor in all other respects?"

There was a bit of a sarcastic tone in Warren's voice as he spoke. It irritated her at first, but she quickly realized that it was not unlikely that Warren was jealous of Tom and his lengthy list of accomplishments. After all, Tom had inspired jealousy of many of the other boys (most frequently the particularly competitive ones of her own house) for years; she really couldn't blame Warren for feeling subpar in comparison.

Rosemary took a sip of her gin and tonic and nodded her head slightly. "Please don't tell anyone."

"I won't. But Rosemary…" All of a sudden, Warren looked slightly distressed, which was an odd sight considering his normally cheerful demeanor. "But, honestly, will it all be worth it? Will your family actually forgive you?"

"I don't know," she told him, as her mind flickered back to her thoughts from that morning. "But yes, I believe he's worth it."

Warren shook his head and gave her a look that could almost be described as pitying. "I'm sorry, Rosemary, but I think you're being incredibly short-sighted."

Her temper was set off immediately: "I don't remember asking for your opinion on the matter. It's not as though you could possibly understand -"

"Actually, I do," he interrupted. "I never pursued Emily because my parents would have put me in the same position as you."

Upon hearing his words, Rosemary couldn't help but feel an onslaught of guilt toward her former friend.

"Think of the future," Warren continued. "If –or when –Grindelwald is successful, Riddle will become even more of a second-class citizen; how will he get a good job and buy you a nice house and all of the things you're used to?"

Rosemary shook her head. "I don't care about any of those things."

A shadow of a scowl passed over Warren's face. "You should. The world is changing, Rose. It would be foolish to dally on the wrong side." He sighed and ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair. "I-I care for you, Rose. You belong with someone who is actually suitable for you. Someone…like me." He tilted her chin up towards his face with a finger and she was so overcome by pure shock that she didn't even try to move away. "You know I could take better care of you, if you'd only let me."

The entire time he spoke, she wanted desperately to find a way to escape, or at least clasp her hands over her ears. If only she had been wearing the earrings that Tom had given her on her birthday…But she wasn't. And instead she had heard the truth: Warren fancied her. It suddenly appeared as though Tom had been right all along. Any thoughts running through her mind felt like they were strings that had been tangled and knotted; it was all so difficult to process.

"You will always be a pureblood. He can never change that…and neither can you." Warren took an abrupt step toward her and she could smell a subtle trace of Firewhiskey on his breath. "Fighting who you are will get you absolutely nowhere."

Before she had even a moment to react, he took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. Rosemary was too taken aback to notice much at all about the kiss, but a few observations managed to trickle into her consciousness: for one, his lips were quite chapped from hour after hour of Quidditch practice and the accompanying wind. Also, kissing him felt as she would imagine it would if he had been her cousin (not that she really knew – it wasn't like she actually had an extended family, save for a widowed aunt on her father's side).

She pulled away from him as soon as she regained herself. Instantly he looked crestfallen and there was a small part of her that felt bad for him, but the overwhelming majority of her emotions were split between confusion and anger. Rosemary wasted no time in getting herself away from him, refusing to look him in the eye as she turned and hurried away in the direction of the ballroom.

Back inside, her first stop was (understandably) the bar. She ordered straight gin and swallowed it as though it was her lifeblood, hoping that it might calm her. Unfortunately, it did little; although she hadn't kissed Warren back and it had lasted for only fractions of a second anyway, Rosemary felt entirely distraught with guilt, both toward Tom and Warren.

How could she be so blind, so naïve?

Rose took a seat at the nearest table and cradled her head in her hands, quite seriously contemplating the prospect of erasing all of her memories of that evening. The next time she looked up, she was horrified to see her mother and walking toward her, linked arm and arm with Warren's mum.

"I thought my son would be with you," Sylvia Cramer said in amusement as they reached her.

"He just stepped outside for a moment," Rosemary said quickly with a smile, though she was barely holding things together with her spinning thoughts. If she had just rejected him, did that mean that the entire plan was off? Surely he'd be too uncomfortable to help her, now.

Sylvia smiled. "Ah. He probably went and took a broom for a spin. I swear to Merlin, that boy is in the air more than he's ever been on the ground."

Rosemary forced herself to choke out a laugh while Evelyn and Sylvia burst into a fit of giggles as though her comment was the funniest thing that they had ever heard.

Their laughter finally died away and Warren's mum reached up to tuck a piece of hair behind Rose's ear, a gesture which made her highly uncomfortable. "Well, if there's anything at all that can distract him from Quidditch it's you, my dear. You should just hear the way he carries on about you."

She instantly felt sick to her stomach and couldn't think of anything that would have made her feel worse. Now she not only felt guilty for hurting Warren and Tom, she felt guilty for the way she would eventually hurt Warren's parents, the moment that they found out it had all been a sham to be with Tom (that is, if by some miracle Warren was still willing to help her). As per their agreement, he would be playing the part of the innocent victim she had heartlessly used and tossed aside. Did she really have it in her to hurt such decent people?

She supposed she did; she _had_ to, really. It wasn't as though there was much in the way of an alternative.

By the next morning, on the way back to Hogwarts, the nauseous feeling in her stomach and the throbbing of her head had yet to wane. The silver lining was the fact that she was alone with her thoughts, as the train was almost entirely empty; she knew that Warren was on it somewhere, but she hadn't seen him at all since the previous night. In fact, even at the party she hadn't seen much of him. He was making a clear effort to avoid her at all cost, chatting up just about everyone in the room while Rosemary stood in the shadows near a corner of the party, pretending that she was invisible.

Of course, there was the issue of Tom. How on earth was she going to tell _him_? She fretted over this question nearly the entire train ride, but was finally distracted when she heard a soft tap on the glass of her compartment door.

Her eyes widened when she looked up to see Warren, but she supposed she should have expected him. They had to talk at one point or another. She unlocked the door and he slid it open, sitting down carefully in the seat across from her.

They stared at each other in silence, until Warren finally sighed and said: "I'm sorry, Rose. I know I was out of line last night…"

"No, it's okay…" she said quietly. The last thing she wanted was to make him feel guilty for it, knowing that it would only make _her_ feel guiltier.

He shook his head. "It's true, I was out of line. I guess I just had a little too much to drink." Even though she knew that this was not true, that he had only faintly smelled of alcohol when they kissed, he looked so disturbingly somber that she would never dare to point it out. Instead, she made herself smile kindly and nod at him.

"Can we please pretend that last night never happened?"

The skin on her face felt tighter as she forced her smile to persist. "Of course."

As if _that_ seemed at all plausible.

* * *

_"It's delicious to have people adore you, but it's exhausting, too. Particularly when your own feelings don't match theirs." - Tasha Alexander_

* * *

**A big thanks to those of you that have left reviews recently (Mrs. TomMarvoloRiddle, How910, CharlotteBlackwood, RosiePosie15, Batfreak02, and A regrettable decision)! I particularly loved reading your ideas for Tom's favorite ice cream flavor and the reasons behind them. :D I've given it some thought and I think my choice for him would be smoked jalapeno dark chocolate (though I'm not sure that this actually exists...if it does, let me know because I WANT IT). **

**Also, sorry I have yet to reply to most of your reviews. :/ I've been crazy busy trying to get things done (and get these last few chapters written!) before leaving for my trip this weekend!**

**Now, on to this chapter! I hope you enjoyed it! I know it was entirely Rose's POV and there was no Tom (:/), but next chapter will be all from his perspective. And you can bet that a lot is going to happen.(; Look for an update soon! **


	49. Part I - Sweet Vengeance

Sweet Vengeance

_September 24, 1944_

Tom crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, brooding. In any normal circumstances at a Tournament event, this was not to be expected – after all, the Tournament was his refuge in a way. But these were _not_ normal circumstances: beside him sat none other than Albus Dumbledore.

It wouldn't have been so bad if the old fool could have just sat there quietly and respected the fact that Raoul and Tom actually had a job to do, though clearly, Tom should have known better than to expect such a courtesy. How was he supposed to focus when person after person kept climbing up the stands to chat with the professor?

Dumbledore was in the midst of a conversation with the Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes when Tom muttered to Beaumont: "Is he even _supposed_ to be in this section – isn't it sponsors-only?"

Raoul eyed him in amusement. "If that were true, then you wouldn't be allowed in this section either."

Tom glared at him.

"He _is_ doing you a favor, you know."

Which was exactly the last thing that Tom wanted to hear. With gritted teeth, Tom said, "I suppose I just don't see the appeal."

"He just seems like a kind-hearted old man to me. And from what I hear, he's quite brilliant."

"Well, that's the opinion of _some._"

Raoul shrugged. "I don't mind him."

Tom's scowl deepened. "You like just about anyone as long as they listen to your mind-numbing stories."

"That's not true; I don't like _you_ all of the time." Raoul smirked.

"Well, I don't listen to your stories even close to all of the time." He rolled his eyes.

Moments later, he spotted another Tournament sponsor climbing up the stands, this time toward Beaumont. Raoul introduced him to Tom, a man by the name of Geoff Robles, just before launching into a recount of everything that had happened in his life since they had last seen each other in France.

Tom began to wonder if he was the only person in the entire room that was actually taking it seriously. Beyond frustrated, he suddenly stood and carried himself three rows closer to the ongoing duels.

Although he could still overhear bits and pieces of their trivial conversations, he quickly became absorbed with the visual rhythm of spell after casted spell. It certainly helped that there were three duels going on at the same time and thus much more to distract him with. Tom scanned the rubric that Beaumont had given him at the beginning of the day, which was used to score the participants of the scouting matches, and shook his head in disapproval.

Why in the world was "Spell Creativity" worth only ten percent of their total score? To Tom, this was a _crucially_ important skill and it exemplified both a participants' ability to think on their toes as well as the breadth of their magical knowledge. And what of "Crowd Likability"? What did that even entail? Though, to be fair, Tom _had _been the crowd favorite at last year's Tournament. But was there truly a need to create a category for it?

In fact, as his eyes scanned the rest of the rubric, he was convinced that it had been made by someone who knew absolutely nothing about dueling. He would surely have to have a word about these issues to Beaumont…well, as soon as he was finished blathering on about his move to London. Tom glanced impatiently up to where the sponsor sat, only to realize that their conversation seemed to have picked up even further.

Well, he supposed he would just have to make the changes himself.

Tom quickly crossed off the things he disliked about the chart, soon realizing that he had drawn a line through nearly everything that was written on the piece of parchment. At this rate, he would be better off creating a new one from scratch. Which was exactly what he did.

He finished up his new and improved chart just as it was time to score each contestant. As someone who had always been quite critical of others (especially when it came to something he took as much pride in as he did with dueling), he found that it felt very nice and strangely calming to place a point value of his choosing next to each name.

Duel after duel went by; there were certainly one or two stand-outs, but on the whole Tom was rather unimpressed (though that didn't come as much of a surprise). By this time, he had grown far too annoyed with Beaumont to even bother looking up at him. Surely Geoff Robles had been replaced by another mundane individual.

Overall, however, he supposed the day hadn't gone _too_ poorly. He had successfully escaped Dumbledore (at least to a small degree, which was as much as he could really hope for anyway) and had gotten to watch a fair bit of dueling. He supposed that this was far better than being prohibited from attending any of the Tournament events at all. It had been a pleasant distraction from his wandering thoughts that continually gravitated toward Rose and, more recently, the gala she had attended with Warren.

Tom lingered impatiently near Beaumont as the participants, potential sponsors, and spectators began to trickle out of the arena. Of course, Raoul had yet to wrap up his present conversation. Tom had considered leaving without saying goodbye, of course, but there was something he first needed to retrieve from Beaumont: the personal files of each participant he had been interested in.

After what seemed like ages, Beaumont shook hands with the man who was either an acquaintance or his oldest friend (it was always difficult to tell with Raoul, not that Tom really cared).

"Enjoy the matches?" Tom asked with a rather snarky tone.

"Quite a bit, thanks. Pollins was most impressive, don't you think?"

Well, perhaps he _had_ been paying attention. For some reason, this prospect irritated Tom even further.

"I was wondering if I could borrow a few of the personal files, just to add to my notes of the matches."

Beaumont shrugged and handed them over. That was perhaps Raoul's one redeeming quality: there were no lectures, no _"I hope this goes without saying, but these are private records…"_. He trusted Tom fully and gave him considerably free rein when it came to these things.

"Well, Raoul, I think it might be best if I escort Tom back to Hogwarts, now," Dumbledore began. "Monday morning will come quickly, after all…"

Tom hated that word: _escort_. As though he were a small, helpless child.

"Of course," Beaumont nodded graciously and shook the old wizard's hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Sir. I look forward to seeing you at the remainder of the Tournament events."

Dumbledore smiled his stupid, serene little smile and nodded, before turning toward the exit. With his back to them, Beaumont smirked at Tom while Tom glared daggers back at Beaumont.

Thankfully, the professor spoke very little to him while they made their way back to the school. Perhaps this was unsurprising – he was so old that surely an all-day event such as that one had been exceptionally exhausting. Still, Tom found it difficult to even breathe normally while standing next to him; there was something about Dumbledore that was intrinsically unnerving. Tom would _never_ allow himself to let down his guard around him.

Soon he was safe in his own quarters once more. While he waited to hear Rosemary's door open and close from across the hall, announcing her return, he opened up the first participant file that was sitting on top of the stack: Marty Eckers.

Eckers had been arguably one of the best duelers of the day: certainly strong on offensive spells and proficient enough on the defensive ones. But a burning disappointment hit him as he read the words right next to his birthdate: "Muggle-Born".

Tom abruptly closed the file, striking a line through his name on the rubric. There were some things he absolutely could not tolerate this time around: working with mudbloods was one of them (a sentiment that had been bolstered from all those hours he had been forced to train with Rookwood).

He only had time to check three more files, which were thankfully absent of the same unworthy blood status, when he heard Rosemary enter her dormitory.

Even in his hesitation to ask her about the Gala, he was excited to see her after their weekend apart. After giving her about twenty minutes or so to settle back in, he knocked on her door. It swung open to let him in a few seconds later. When he walked into her bedroom, she was lounging on her bed with her Arithmancy textbook in her hands and her wand across the room on her dresser. Tom felt a considerable amount of pride for her as he realized that she had opened the door using wandless magic, a skill which he had been tutoring her in for quite some time.

"How was the Gala?" he asked her, wishing to get the topic out of the way as quickly as possible.

Her eyes didn't meet his when she answered: "Oh, you know. Fine."

Tom could tell instantly that something was off, both in the way that she seemed to regard him nervously and in the rushed tone of her voice.

"How were the duels?" she asked him, setting her book aside on her nightstand. "Did you meet anyone worthy of joining the team?"

He ignored her nervous tone and abrupt subject change, attributing them to the likely possibility that she wanted to be off the topic of her father's event just as much as he did. "There were a few promising candidates...although they don't seem as though they are quite up to the present standard," he told her, as he crossed the room and sat near her feet.

By present standard he of course meant himself; he was the only person that Beaumont had signed a contract with so far.

"That's nice," she told him with an airy voice, as though she hadn't listened to a single word that had come out of his mouth.

He told himself not to get offended; surely she was tired from her train ride back to Hogwarts. Ignoring her apparent lack of interest, he continued: "With Dumbledore constantly around, I'm inclined to give up my position entirely. Have you noticed that he seems to know _everyone_? It was terribly bloody annoying. How are we supposed to concentrate on the duels when there is a constant stream of people coming up to him for a chat? He could _at least_ sit out of the way somewhere…"

Rosemary continued to seem strangely distracted, and kept looking at the door as though she might want to escape. Perhaps she truly was bored of his recount of the day? He dropped the topic and reached up, running his fingers lightly along her arm; she returned his touch with a smile, but it seemed tense and quite forced.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked her with concern.

"No." Her smile looked increasingly fraudulent.

She was going to drive him mad with much more of this.

If only he could get to the bottom of whatever was bothering her without making her say a word…

He told himself repeatedly that he shouldn't subject her to the abuse of his powers; that her mind was special, unlike the rest. It was something to be treasured rather than disgraced.

But would one look _really _hurt, as long as she never found out about it? Surely any guilt he might feel would be worth the peace of mind…

Yes, he thought; it would be worth it if it meant he no longer had to worry about it. If the Gala hadn't been last night, he might not have been as worried, but there was no telling what could have gone wrong. Had her parents finally figured out her plan? Worse, did they have a way to prove it?

In order to avoid arousing her suspicions, he turned her head toward him and kissed her, looking straight into her eyes as they pulled away from each other.

As her thoughts poured into his consciousness, he quickly realized that, apparently, she was better at hiding things from him than he had previously thought. Her mind was overcome with guilt and for some reason, the fact that he had kissed her brought a single memory to the forefront of her thoughts.

But was it the reason for her odd distance? There was only one way to find out, he supposed…

The dream quickly came into focus and he saw Rosemary and Warren standing in a strange room with large glass boxes and a few broomsticks scattered throughout. It didn't take much in the way of deduction to determine that this was a memory from last night, at her father's event. Tom watched in disdain as Warren said:

"_The world is changing, Rose. It would be foolish to dally on the wrong side…I-I care for you, Rose. You belong with someone who is actually suitable for you. Someone…like me." _

A chill went down Tom's spine as Warren reached up to her face and tilted her chin up. Why was she standing so close to him?

Then, he heard: _"You know I could take better care of you, if you'd only let me._ _You will always be a pureblood. He can never change that…and neither can you."_

Warren stepped even closer and said something else, but Tom failed to process it: he was too busy watching this piece of filth kiss _his_ girlfriend. He had had enough. _More_ than enough. Tom didn't bother to wait around and see what her reaction to it was – he didn't think he could bear it.

As he exited her mind, he subconsciously pulled away from her and she gave him a confused look. He wasn't sure if she knew that he had performed Legilimency on her, but at the moment he didn't care. All he felt was shock; pure shock. So much so that there was no room for anger….at least not yet. He knew he had to get away from her and collect his thoughts while he still could. "I've forgotten…I'm to meet with Professor Slughorn this evening," he muttered, refusing to look into her eyes again as he turned and let himself out of her room.

It was a good thing that he excused himself when he did, because his temper caught fire as soon as he slipped into the corridor.

_How dare he attempt to steal her away?! Does he have_ no_ sense of decency whatsoever?_

How had he known about Tom's blood status, anyway?

_Rose told him. She had to; her father never would…Or was Cramer _actually _intelligent enough to put two and two together? Clearly not, considering this little stunt…_

He stormed through the corridors with no real destination in mind; his feet seemed to be steering the way without any sort of direction.

And how dare _she_?!

_She didn't even so much as hint at it. Was she planning on hiding this forever, forcing _me_ to play the fool? She was right to feel so guilty._

Then he stopped in his tracks, while a truly horrifying thought passed through his mind: what if she didn't feel guilty because she hadn't told Tom, but because she had somehow fallen in love with Cramer? Was it really such a stretch? They had spent so much extra time together, thanks to her _brilliant_ little plan, after all…And hadn't this precise outcome been exactly why Tom had been so hesitant about it all along?

In that moment, he thought he might just hate them both.

He needed to find Cramer. There was hell to pay.

Tom began walking in the direction of the Grand Staircase; if he recalled correctly, Warren had Prefect rounds that evening and should be about halfway through, putting him on the fourth floor. Clearly his ability as Head Boy to create the rounds schedule had paid off: as Tom stepped off the staircase, he spotted the git turning a corner at the end of the corridor.

Tom strode quickly down the corridor in pursuit of him, turning the same corner just seconds later.

Cramer must have heard the footsteps behind him, because he turned. His eyes widened slightly when he saw Tom, but otherwise he gave no indication of alarm. Which clearly was a mistake on his part.

He stopped and brandished an idiotic smile. "Evening, Riddle."

Tom stood there, his eyes narrowing into a glare, while he considered how exactly he might go about handling such an altercation. His first instinct was, of course, to punch him square in the face. In fact, his hands had already balled into fists.

But no, he wouldn't. He was above such muggle brutality.

Instead he reached for his wand.

It became clear in an instant that Warren knew _exactly_ what Tom had found out about. Tom watched him reach for his wand as well, presumably in some pathetic attempt at self-defense. Tom's crisp voice cut through the air between them: _"Expelliarmus."_

He caught Warren's wand and tucked it in his pocket. It was almost _too_ easy. So easy that it was nearly unsatisfying. Not that he was even close to through, obviously.

Even in his now-wandless state, Warren looked relatively unperturbed and Tom struggled to find a good explanation for this: he should be scared. _Very _scared.

"Look, Riddle, it's not what you think…"

Of course, Tom had absolutely no desire to hear anything that Cramer had to say. He flicked his wand sharply, sending Warren flying into the wall. The blow must have knocked the wind out of him because he began coughing almost immediately. Suddenly, Warren was beginning to look quite worried. About damn time.

"_Confringo."_ He said, knocking Cramer into the air once more, until he fell flat on his back a few feet away. He groaned in pain, not even bothering to attempt to pull himself off the ground.

Tom walked over and stood above him menacingly.

Warren coughed again and then said, "I overstepped my bounds…I'm sorry. She's yours; you _know _she's yours. Let's just be men about this and move on."

Tom looked down both ends of the corridor to make sure nobody was watching. Satisfied that they were completely alone, a sinister smile slid onto his face. It was time for the _real_ fun to begin.

"_Crucio."_

Cramer let out a yelp as he twisted and contorted on the stone floor at Tom's feet. He couldn't help but think: what a pathetic excuse for a wizard. How could someone like _him_ be a pureblood, but not Tom? Something about that simple fact seemed so cruel, so very unjust.

"Did you honestly think you'd get away with it? Are you really that thick?" Tom asked him somewhat rhetorically, knowing that Cramer would be in far too much pain to even attempt a response. "Rosemary can't hide _anything _from me."

Tom lifted the curse and Warren sat up, panting. "You're bloody mad. I hope you know that this isn't going to change anything…no matter how many times you curse me, you will _still _be a half-blood."

Tom's lip curled in rage and he lunged at him, grabbing him by the shirt collar, so very ready to hit him. "It. Is. Not. About. That." He was so angry that his hands were shaking slightly. It now seemed ridiculous that he had blamed Rosemary at all for what had happened, when Cramer was being so overtly antagonistic. "Don't you understand?" He released Cramer, pushing him back down to the ground. "This is about revenge. _Crucio!_"

A smile creeped onto his face once more as he watched Warren writhe in pain. He was enjoying every moment of the Ravenclaw's suffering entirely and what was even better was that the pesky, hesitant voice in the back of his mind seemed to have taken a momentary absence. There was nothing within him that was worried he might be expelled: all he could feel was righteousness.

Once again, Tom lifted the curse. Warren lay on the ground, curled into a pathetic-looking ball. He was still for a few seconds, but slowly tried to stand, settling instead for propping himself up against the wall behind him. "And how do you think Rose will react when she finds out about _this_?"

"She won't," Tom hissed, raising his wand threateningly once more at this fool who was just _asking_ for another bout of the Cruciatus Curse.

Warren turned his head in the direction of the main corridor that led back to the staircase and asked, "Are you sure?"

Tom followed his gaze, his mouth becoming instantly dry as soon as he saw her horrified face and the book that had fallen to the floor from her trembling hands. For a second she stood there, as though she had been petrified, until she hurried away into the adjoining corridor from which she just came.

Even in all of his rage, all of his righteousness, his voice sounded foreign and defeated: "Rose."

* * *

"_Let me tell you something about me. I love vengeance like normal people love sunsets and long walks on the beach. I eat vengeance with a spoon like it's honey. In fact, I may not even be a real person, but just a vow of vengeance made flesh." ― Laini Taylor_

* * *

**Well, so much for finishing Part I before leaving for vacation. Sigh. On the bright side, I have an 8-hour car ride tomorrow and will probably be able to finish Chapter 50 during it! Then I just have to find somewhere with Wi-Fi to post it...**

**Oh! Not ONLY will next chapter be the finale to Part I; I will also be announcing the lucky winners to that little contest I mentioned, like, forever ago.(:**

**As always, thank you to you lovely readers that took the time to review last chapter: How910, A regrettable decision, CharlotteBlackwood, RosiePosie15, lgraham1, and M! You really really help me stay on track with writing this (well, as on track as my life currently permits)!**

**I'll be back soon with CHAPTER 50!(:**


	50. Part I - The Accomplice

The Accomplice

_September 24, 1944_

Rosemary's body was filled with adrenaline as she raced up to the last place in the Hogwarts castle that Tom would attempt to look for her: the Owlery. In her traumatized state, her fear of heights no longer seemed to matter and the way she traversed the stairs that led up to it could almost be described as careless. She reached the top platform and was hit instantly with the putrid smell of the room's feathered inhabitants.

Rose clutched her nose and hurried over to the nearest open window, just behind a large statue of an eagle owl. Her lungs filled with fresh air and instant relief, though it did little to calm her nerves. She retrieved her wand from her robes and pointed it at the floor right behind the statue.

"_Scourgify."_

The bird droppings and hay vanished to reveal the stone beneath it and Rosemary lowered herself to the ground. She lit a cigarette and leaned back against the statue, sucking in the longest drag she possibly could. Only after finishing the entire smoke, when she was at least somewhat satisfied that it had calmed her, did she allow herself to look internally at her spiraling thoughts.

The image of Tom cruelly standing above Warren with that sick, cold-blooded smile on his face was burned into her mind. It sent chills down her spine.

Where was the person she thought she knew - the one she had professed her love to hundreds of times, the one who had held her at night for months?

It was unnerving to realize that she didn't have an answer for this question. The truth was that she _didn't_ know who he was any longer. The man she knew had a temper, but would have had the sense not to take things that far. Like, _Cruciatus Curse_ far. Had he gone completely mental? What if someone had seen? He'd be expelled at best...

She might have wondered how he had found out about Warren's confession, but there was no question in her mind: it had to have been Legilimency. There was no way in hell Warren would have told him…In fact, Warren would apparently have to be only slightly short of suicidal to tell him.

Rosemary clenched her eyes shut, as she realized that it was essentially her fault that this had happened to him. If she could have just acted normal around Tom, he never would have been worried and he wouldn't have had any reason to look at her thoughts. Then again, maybe he would have anyway; maybe he looked at them all the time without her knowledge. He was clearly skilled enough at it that she would have no way of knowing. Of course, as if this thought wasn't terrifying enough, the fact that he was freely throwing around Unforgivable Curses certainly was.

She heard the shuffle of footsteps coming up the stairs and she hugged her knees close to her chest, hoping that she was sufficiently hidden behind the statue. There was a part of her that worried it was Tom, but really she was just in no mood to talk to anyone regardless.

"Stop fidgeting," a familiar voice hissed. "Professors never come up here at this hour. And the Prefects have moved their rounds onto the lower floors by now."

Rose couldn't help but be at least a bit thankful for this intriguing distraction to her crisis.

"I'm fine," a not-so-familiar voice snapped in return.

There was an uncomfortable silence. "Well, are you buying or not? Cash up front only."

"I've got it right here."

The familiar voice that she still couldn't quite place over the hoots of the owls seemed satisfied. "Well, what can I do you for?"

"Well," the other voice began hesitantly, "I was hoping to try whatever it was that you sold to Dolohov last weekend."

"Well, well, well, look who's not messing around…."

"I should have enough there – Dolohov said it was fifteen galleons."

"That was last week. Maybe the price has gone up due to demand."

"Don't be a wanker. There are other people I can get it from, you know."

"No, not this special little blend. I've got _connections_, you see. Anyway, I'm just fucking with you. It's fifteen galleons."

A trace of smoke from her cigarette scratched her lungs and she fought the urge to cough, attempting to stay silent while their apparent drug deal took place. After her run-in with Tom that evening, she thought it would be best to avoid being discovered. For all she knew, they could be just as willing to throw a Cruciatus to keep her quiet.

"Now, as you may already know, you can add this to any beverage, though we suggest something with a stronger flavor because the potion sort of tastes like dung alone. One drop if you want to feel relaxed, two if you want to feel exceptionally clever, and three if you want to have –"

Unfortunately, she couldn't ignore the itch any longer and had to cede to the small bit of relief that a cough could provide. Rose did so as quietly as she possibly could, but froze when she realized that their talking had paused. For one frightening second, the entire owlery fell deathly quiet; even the owls had seemed to sense the tension and had stopped making noise momentarily.

" – the best damn time of your life," the voice finally finished. "Now get out of here." She heard one pair of footsteps move toward the staircase. "And _hide the bottle_."

The footsteps scurried outside and down the stairs.

"Stupid little shit," the dealer said under his breath. Now that the noise from the owls had died down considerably, she was almost certain that she knew _exactly_ who the voice belonged to.

She heard his footsteps growing closer and closer to the statue, until he finally jumped around it, pointing his wand down at her.

"Rose?" his tone held pure confusion.

"Markus," she greeted him.

"What are you doing up here? I thought you hated this place…"

She nodded. "I do...It's a bit of a long story. I suppose there's no need to ask what _you're _doing up here." Rosemary eyed him in disapproval.

Markus smirked. "Well, everyone has to earn a living somehow. Not all of us have perfect scores on our N.E.W.T.s." She wrinkled her nose as he took a seat on the floor across from her, without even bothering to clean it up beforehand.

"Your vault at Gringotts doesn't have you covered for the next hundred years?"

He put his hands up, as though she had caught him in some crime (a rather ironic gesture, considering the fact that she just did) and said, "Alright, alright. I confess; I do it for the discounts."

She sighed and gave him another disapproving look, but it wasn't as though any of this came as much of a surprise; Markus had been experimenting with (mostly) illegal substances for years. Nor could she judge him too harshly – she had tried at least two or three of them while they were dating.

"What is this new product, exactly?" she asked, though she wasn't sure that she should dare to.

He pulled out a small vial from his pocket and its color surprised her: it was very light purple, almost a lavender shade. "It's so new it doesn't even have a name. You heard me telling Mulciber about it, of course; it's a damn good drug."

"Does it actually work?" she raised an eyebrow. "Can buyers _actually _control which effect they have based on the number of drops they take?" She would be quite impressed if this was true; it would be evidence of extremely skilled potion-making.

"Well, it's still being perfected," Avery admitted. "But yes, it works…usually."

"And when it doesn't?"

"It makes you sick," he shrugged. "But not even sick enough to visit the Infirmary. Besides that, there aren't really any other side effects…well, as far as we know, at least."

Rosemary considered it for a moment. The concept _was_ quite impressive.

"Want to try it? I'll give you my discount…"

She sighed and lit another cigarette. "Maybe another time." Another time, when its safety was actually somewhat proven.

"So, what's this long story?"

Oh. Right. Tom.

Rose had been so distracted by her fascination that she had momentarily forgotten the traumatic ordeal. "I don't really want to talk about it…"

"Well obviously it has to do with Riddle. Otherwise, you'd be with him right now."

She elected not to answer, hugging her knees tightly against her chest instead.

"You know you can tell me, Rose."

But she didn't know that. What if Tom lost his shit again if/when he found out that Avery knew, too? What if telling him would just put another innocent person in danger?

"Don't make me tell Faye that something's wrong with you…you know she'll be hounding you for the next three weeks until you tell her what it is…."

His argument was a compelling one. She supposed she could at least _try_ to talk about it without revealing any real details…

"He's just not who I thought he was." She looked at him sadly and gave a small shrug.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, you know that Tom has a bit of a temper…?"

Markus snorted. "A bit. Right."

She narrowed her eyes at his snarky tone, but continued on: "Have you ever seen him act…violently?"

Markus' eyes widened and his face grew serious immediately. "Did he hurt you?" he demanded. It was exceptionally unnerving to realize how apparently believable this prospect was.

And that was a 'yes' to her question, apparently.

"No." She shook her head quickly. "Someone else."

"Three guesses who." Markus rolled his eyes. "We all tried to tell you that it was an awful plan, you know…"

How could he be so nonchalant about it? Perhaps he thought that Tom had merely used a jinx or two. "It was an Unforgivable…" she hissed.

Even this seemed not to faze him to any significant degree. "Well, is Cramer going to say anything?"

"No. I don't know. I don't think so."

"So, what's the problem?"

Rosemary stared at him blankly for a few seconds. "Really? You don't see a problem with that? You would just go and use the Cruciatus on anyone that pissed you off?"

Markus shook his head. "I wouldn't, personally…but Riddle? You know he sort of lives by his own set of rules. That's one of the things I like most about him, really."

She considered this baffling statement; for the most part, she had never taken Tom as one to blatantly defy the rules (especially those that were universal amongst magical folk). Find a loophole, sure, but blatantly defy? The instances besides this one that she could name were rare.

Apparently, her face continued to look just as blank as it did before because Markus sat back against the wall and said: "You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what? That I'm dating someone who is completely mental enough to use that nasty spell at all; even worse: on school grounds?"

But the more she thought about it, the more it all began to make sense: the way his friends all walked on eggshells around him, their apparent relief whenever he seemed to be in a good mood, and that eerie feeling that there was always something she was missing.

Markus looked down on his feet. "I always thought you knew. I thought you were okay with it; that maybe you liked the fact that he would never be afraid to protect you."

Rosemary began to cry, overwhelmed by this influx of disturbing information and Markus moved over to her and placed an arm around her shoulder. "What am I supposed to do?" she choked out between sobs.

"I guess you just have to decide whether or not you can accept it. I doubt he's going to change anytime soon…"

She nodded. He was right, of course. Not that it made things any easier. If she loved Tom, it would have been simple – just as it had always been simple to choose him over her parents. But could she love this other part of him that, until now, she didn't even know existed? If she couldn't, would loving the rest of him be enough?

* * *

This time, he had gone too far.

Tom paced back and forth across his dormitory, muttering swears under his breath. How could he be so stupid, so impulsive? It was completely irrational – attacking Cramer in the middle of a semi-frequently traveled corridor...Then again, it wasn't as though he would have actually regretted it if Rosemary hadn't seen him.

Warren, meanwhile, sat in a peaceful-looking trance in the corner of Tom's room, still under the Imperius Curse Tom had used to get him back there. It was rather disappointing to know that Cramer would never remember Tom's retribution after that night, but it was clearly a necessary step now that Rosemary knew.

If it hadn't been for her, he wouldn't have worried at all – in fact, he had _killed_ people and not worried at all. But she was a wild card in his life (and one of the only ones, in fact); he had no idea how she would react after the initial shock wore off. Not only did he have to erase Cramer's memory of that evening, he also had to mentally prepare himself to possibly erase hers, as well. Such was the reason for his distress.

He _already_ felt quite guilty for using Legilimency on her – he couldn't even imagine how he could do something to her like erase her memory. How much could he toy with her mind before it finally caught up to him?

No, he told himself. However she reacted, it _had _to stop with Warren. He would just have to deal with the consequences of her discovering his darker side. Sure, she might be angry with him for weeks, if not months, but that would certainly be less troublesome than guilt.

Tom's pulse quickened as he heard a slight knock at the door. He dove across the room and opened the door just an inch or so to prevent whoever it was from seeing Warren. A wave of relief rushed over him when he saw Rosemary standing there and he almost felt like smiling, but didn't. The fact that she had come back to him in such a short time was the best outcome he could have possibly imagined; while he didn't doubt that she was angry with him, he figured that this surely meant that she understood precisely why he had done it. Now there would be no need to track her down; no need to explain himself.

Perhaps, he thought happily, the entire ordeal was for the best. Perhaps it meant that he could show more of himself to her without fear of her unacceptance.

He stood aside to allow her in and she silently moved passed him, almost cautiously. Tom tensed and held his breath as her eyes flickered over Warren, unsure of how she might react (especially when she realized that he was using yet another Unforgivable Curse), but he quietly exhaled as she moved to stand in the corner of the room that was opposite Cramer.

So far so good.

Her eyes were glued to the Ravenclaw as Tom drew his wand once more and locked the door. "I'll be finished in just a few moments," he told her gently, bending his neck slightly to kiss the side of her face.

Rose lit a cigarette as he pointed his wand at Cramer's forehead and said, "_Obliviate._"

Tom glanced at his watch and two and a half seconds later, the precise amount of time that was required to erase the last hour's memory, he lifted the spell. In the morning, of course, he would check Warren's mind to ensure that all traces of their encounter were eliminated. Tom turned to Rose and said, "There. All finished," but her eyes were still fixed instead upon Warren. If she hadn't seemed so traumatized he might have been jealous.

He was about to send the other wizard on his way with the use of the Imperius Curse when Rosemary suddenly stood and started across the room toward them. Tom regarded her with curiosity when she fell to her knees and pulled out her wand, pressing the tip lightly against the side of Warren's face. It was then that he realized she was healing his bruises and scrapes that Tom had caused by throwing him into the wall.

When she finished his face, she began unbuttoning his shirt to scan his arms and back for any further damage. He scowled as he watched her fingers press against his bare skin to move him, but quickly reminded himself that he was being irrational.

After all, she had come back to _him_ – even after seeing his temper at its worst. To him, that alone meant everything and the additional fact that she was helping him conceal the incident made him love her more than he ever believed to be possible.

Rosemary stepped away from him after re-buttoning his shirt, apparently content, and continued to stare down at him as she asked, "Did anyone else see?"

"No," he said with certainty.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

With another flick of his wand, Tom sent Warren walking back to his own dormitory, satisfied that they had done more than enough to ensure he would not remember anything peculiar about that night. Finally, they were alone.

Tom strode over and stood in front of Rosemary, who had moved to sit against the wall, offering her his hand to help her up. She eyed it blankly.

Right. He had sort of forgotten the very likely possibility that she was upset with him.

He joined her on the floor, wondering what he might say to her. Where should he even begin? Should he bring up his guilt about using Legilimency on her? Perhaps not – he supposed that there was a chance that she didn't even suspect him. In truth, he had no way of knowing exactly how it was she was feeling or what she wanted him to say. Was she relieved, knowing that Warren wouldn't report him? Well, that much was obvious, at least – she had been the one helping him ensure that such a thing wouldn't happen, after all. Perhaps she was worried that Tom's memory charm would fail and that Warren would remember? If that was the case, it needn't trouble her – clearly he was quite proficient in memory charms if he had successfully performed such an advanced one on himself.

It was clear that he needed to say _something, _though. From the way she continued to stare down at her knees instead of looking him in the eye made it apparent that she wasn't going to be the one to start the conversation.

"I'm sorry you saw that," he said quietly. "I just – I don't know. I lost my temper…" As these words came out of his mouth, he realized how disgusting they were to his own ears. Even now, when he knew that she needed to hear it, he hated making excuses for himself. Besides, he didn't even know if there was a reason to; he was just about entirely convinced that she understood his reasons.

Rosemary said nothing in response. So he, desperate for something more to say, repeated: "I'm sorry. Really."

And he was; sorry that she had seen him, at least.

Tom noticed that she still hadn't looked him in the eye, even once, which was truly beginning to bother him. He raised his finger to her chin to turn her face toward his and was taken aback when she flinched at his touch. A terrible feeling welled up inside of him: she was afraid. But why? Surely she knew better than to think he would ever hurt _her_. He loved her – couldn't she see that? Weren't the lengths he had gone to that night evidence enough of that?

But apparently she still had her doubts – not only doubts of his love, but doubts of her _safety_. Overcome with guilt, he suddenly threw his arms around her and pulled her close against his chest. He swore to himself to show her, somehow, that he could never hurt her the way he could hurt anyone else. He couldn't bear the thought of her worrying for her own well-being around him.

She began shaking slightly and he pulled her off of him, almost immediately noticing the tears streaming down her face. It felt like it had been such a long time since he had last seen her cry and it had _never_ been like this. She looked broken and vulnerable, a sight that was both terrifying and quite painful for him.

"What is it?" he asked her in the most comforting voice he could manage given his panicking state.

She said nothing and began crying even harder instead.

"Speak with me, Rosemary." His voice sounded almost pleading this time. He didn't understand – wasn't everything fine? Or was she truly that afraid of him?

As though she had been struck, she stopped crying immediately and finally looked at him right in the eye. When she spoke, her tone could only be described as reproachful at best: "Why don't you just read my mind?" She twisted her body out of his grasp and scooted away from him by several inches.

He swallowed, as his mouth had suddenly gone dry. "I'm sorry," he said instantly. "It was a mistake…and it won't happen again." That, at least, was a promise he could make. He had certainly learned his lesson that evening.

She gave him an incredulous look, so he continued: "It won't. You have to trust me."

"And how exactly am I to do that?" she demanded. "I don't even know who _you_ are!"

It sort of hurt to hear, but hadn't that been the truth all along? She didn't even know the half of the things he had done. Even so, he decided it was best to make himself sound as innocent as he possibly could: "What do you mean?"

"I never thought…I just…" Rose shook her head as she trailed off, looking as though she was about to cry again. After a few seconds' pause, she seemed to pull herself together enough to say: "I never thought you were capable of doing something so awful…"

Tom scowled. Apparently she hadn't understood him as much as he had hoped for. But really, he knew he shouldn't have been disappointed: after all, he was the only person he knew of that found no issue with using an Unforgivable Curse here and there. It wasn't her fault that his moral compass was just slightly tilted off axis.

He moved closer to her and ran his hand down her leg and over her knee; at least she didn't flinch at his touch this time around. Then he reached up and pushed her hair back, out of her face, and said gently, "This was just one mistake, Rose. Nothing's changed…and nothing _will_ change. It's already in the past, don't you see?"

As though she hadn't heard him, she carefully removed his hand from her face and placed it in his lap. "I'm sorry, Tom." She looked down at knees once again.

"For what?" What did she possibly have to be sorry for? Did she somehow suddenly feel guilty for being upset with him?

Her stunning, deep blue eyes suddenly locked with his. Nothing in the world could prepare him for what he heard come out of her mouth next: "We're through."

* * *

"_So he tasted the deep pain that is reserved only for the strong, just as he had tasted for a little while the deep happiness." – F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

**Wow. So, Part I is complete. Finally! Only six more to go...**

**Seriously, though, I am still so in love with writing this story and there is now no doubt in my mind that I'll see it through to completion; I've invested WAY too much time and thought into it to abandon it. I do hope you'll continue to join me on that wild ride.(: **

**Speaking of, thank you SO MUCH to all of you that have followed/favorited/reviewed over the course of these first fifty chapters. I never dreamt that I would attain such a following on this. You keep me humble.(: **

**While we're on the topic, I owe an additional thanks to Mrs. TomMarvoloRiddle, x2leoj, CharlotteBlackwood, and bleachlover202 for reviewing Chapter 49.(:**

**AND NOW ON TO THE CONTEST WINNERS!**

**Confession time. I only ended up drawing two names for one of the prizes. I realized that it was a bit of a mistake to only promise three prizes when I have had SO MANY wonderful, regular reviewers. **

**So instead, if you've left at least five reviews on my story, YOU WIN A FREE SPOILER! I could list all the names, but you know who you are.(: So go ahead and ****PM me/leave a review with your question - it can be about anything at all that I've written, but keep in mind that I haven't planned out every single detail of the entire story...so I might not have an answer if it's too far in the future. If that's the case, you can ask a different one!**

**BUT! There is one special prize that I drew two names for. These users will receive a sneak peek at the first chapter of Part II (I'll PM you the chapter about a week before I'm set to publish it): _Mrs. TomMarvoloRiddle _and _CharlotteBlackwood_! Congrats! **

**Okay, wow. Sorry this is so long already. Last thing, I promise.**

**I am planning on taking off some time before I begin posting Part II. I'll be heading back to grad school soon, and I'd like to get adjusted before I commit to posting really regularly again. So here's a look at my plan over the next several weeks:**

**1\. Minor revisions on chapters (word choice, etc.) and changing chapter titles. Seriously, what on earth was I thinking when I decided to name every chapter "The *fill in the blank*"?! I can't even fathom 300 more chapters of that. **

**2\. Planning Part II out, chapter by chapter. I know the main events that will happen, but it's nice to have everything laid out before I begin writing.**

**3\. New story summary with a peek at a line or two from Part II - look for this in a couple of weeks! **

**4\. Writing the first five or so chapters, just in case I get super busy in school and can't write for a while. I like having some chapters saved up so I don't leave you hanging and can still put out an update!**

**4\. Publishing Part II! I will be posting new chapters beginning October 1st at the very latest. Since I'll be a lot busier, my plan is to update once a week rather than every three/four days. I think this is fair and consider this to be more frequent than many other stories on this site.(:**

**I hope to see you again for Part II! Please follow if you haven't already so you know when I'm updating again. Enjoy these last few days of summer.(:**


	51. Part II - Shattered

Shattered

_December 19, 1944_

It was quite amazing, really, what could change over the course of three short months. And oh, how things certainly had.

No longer was Tom Riddle an obsessed, lovesick sap. Well, perhaps his personality could still be described as obsessed, but at least these new fixations didn't pertain to _her_ – not even the slightest regard. He had recovered from the split from _her_ as a new man, escaping the blow completely unscathed.

Maybe not entirely. But mostly.

The important thing, he supposed, was that he learned from his mistake: the mistake that went by the name of Rosemary Horton. Never again would he allow himself to lose so much control over his own life. How had he been so blind? Had he _really _thought that she made things better for him? The prospect seemed so ridiculous now that he was rid of her pretentious moral standards. Any sort of loss that he had felt initially was trivial in comparison to his regained sense of freedom. It was due to this drastic improvement that he had accomplished so much in the past couple of months.

Because now he could do whatever he damn well pleased.

Headmaster Dippet cleared his throat: "…And now, a few words from Professor Dumbledore…"

Dumbledore stood and strode to the front of the room with a grave look in his eyes and a slight frown of his mouth. Tom didn't need Legilimency to know exactly what was coming: "By now, I trust that you are all aware of the attacks that have centered upon blood elitism in the past few weeks."

Oh, yes. Tom was _certainly _aware. If Dumbledore hadn't been watching him so intently, he might have allowed a smirk to spread across his face.

"While thankfully none of these have been violent in nature–"

_Yet_.

"–it is my belief that written and verbal prejudice can be equally as damaging. I find it truly regrettable that such a hateful message has come about in a time where, more than ever, we should be standing together instead of apart."

By this, of course, Dumbledore was referring to the looming threat of Grindelwald who, judging by the newspapers and the increasingly heightened security around Hogwarts, had grown more powerful than ever.

"Let us remember that Muggle-born students have just as much of a right to attend Hogwarts as half-blood or pure-blood students."

Tom almost burst out laughing when he heard _that_.

"Perhaps this goes without saying, but I'd like to remind you that, as Prefects, you are especially responsible for reporting any information that might lead us to the perpetrator – or perpetrators – of this blatant disregard of Hogwarts' policy against prejudice. With any luck at all, the motivation behind these attacks will cease over the holidays and fail to return to Hogwarts in the New Year."

If that was truly what Dumbledore believed, he was going to be sorely disappointed. Tom had been enjoying himself quite a bit in the last few weeks and had no intention whatsoever of quitting. Thankfully, neither did his followers. Or were they his friends? He couldn't quite decide sometimes…

Who was he kidding? Followers. _Definitely_ followers.

Yes, Tom had certainly kept himself busy in the past few weeks. He had come to the realization that his goal to defeat Grindelwald was not nearly enough – even if he did, the wizarding world would continue on just as it always had: mudblood tolerance and all. What he now desired was to replace Grindelwald's 'For the Greater Good' effort with a movement of his own; a movement that had _always_ been more practical: pushing mudbloods to the bottom of wizarding society, beginning with Hogwarts.

It was a lofty goal, sure. But he _was_ Tom Riddle…and if he didn't do it, then who would?

Really, things had moved along quite nicely: he had successfully gathered a group of like-minded Slytherins and together they had staged numerous efforts to send the message that mudbloods were not welcome at Hogwarts. The most recent of which was a set of informative posters that they had plastered all over the school, featuring a lengthy list of all the reasons mudbloods were unworthy of receiving an equal magical education to that of a pure-blood.

Dumbledore dismissed them all except for Horton and himself after finishing his absurd lecture on blood elitism. This came as no surprise – as Head Boy and Girl, they always met with Dippet and Dumbledore following Prefect meetings. Although, if Tom hadn't become so well-versed in Occlumency, he might have been nervous; the way that Dumbledore was looking at him very clearly meant that he was a suspect in the recent 'attacks'.

While Dippet and Dumbledore took turns droning on to them about the state of safety at Hogwarts and the fact that some students' parents were so unnerved by the threat of Grindelwald that they might not allow their children to come back to school after the holiday break, Tom's mind wandered to what he might plan next with his little club. While he had no shortage of ideas, the tricky part was finding the most opportune time to execute them. Plus, if he expected his group to be of any help whatsoever in his ultimate pursuit of Grindelwald, he also had to spend some time training them.

Thankfully, this hadn't been nearly as frustrating as he had initially expected. He was rather impressed, in fact, at how quickly some of them (Antonin Dolohov and Jason Mulciber, especially) had picked up on his teachings.

It was true; he had cultivated the closest thing he had ever experienced to a group of friends. But it was _better_ than having friends because they listened to every single command he made, without fail, and were eager to learn anything and everything they could from him about dark magic. Sure, things had been a little rocky in the very beginning, but it was nothing a few threats hadn't fixed.

"…Do either of you have _any_ information at all about who might be responsible for the terrible messages that have been directed at the muggle-born students?" he heard Dippet ask them.

He kept his face perfectly blank and shook his head, noticing once more how carefully Dumbledore was looking at him. Tom saw Horton shake her head out of the corner of his eye, too, and he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps she suspected him as well. After all, he had been quite open with her about his views when they were…together.

Over the past couple of weeks, as his group had become more and more active within the school, he had pondered the idea of taking a glance inside her mind to see what she knew, but he had yet to do so. There was a part of him that truly did not wish to know what she thought of him: it didn't really matter, anyway. All he wanted was to forget her entire existence.

That was fairly difficult, though, considering the fact that she was Head Girl, nearly all of their classes were together, and they were also Potions partners.

"Very well," Dippet nodded solemnly, before attempting a smile that was clearly quite forced. "I wish you both a pleasant holiday. Merlin knows you deserve it…"

It was abundantly clear what he meant: thanks to Dumbledore and his policies for the heightened security at the school, he and Rosemary had been required to take on an unprecedented number of duties as Head Boy and Head Girl.

"Thank you, Sir. Happy Christmas to you as well," Tom sported his usual, charming smile and gave a slight nod to both Dippet and Dumbledore before leaving the meeting room.

When he entered the corridor, he saw Cramer waiting outside of the classroom for Horton, still playing the part of the dutiful boyfriend. Or maybe he wasn't playing the part – maybe Tom had been right all along about his suspicions and that she truly did fancy Cramer.

He smiled to Tom and nodded in acknowledgment at him, clearly unaware of the fact that just a couple of months prior he had been lying at Tom's feet, writhing in pain. Tom had no idea how to perceive the Ravenclaw's idiotic smile as anything less than triumphant: after all, Cramer had gotten exactly what he had wanted (even if he didn't know exactly how). A display of such evident boasting might have sent Tom over the edge and earned Warren another round of the Cruciatus if he still happened to care at all.

But he didn't. It was all in the past.

Even so, he couldn't seem to help the way that his hands balled into fists as he strode past Cramer without any sort of acknowledgment in return, as though he hadn't noticed him at all.

His pace quickened when he realized that he was already quite late for his meeting with Raoul that afternoon. Thankfully, he wasn't far from the Armoury corridor. He glanced around him as he arrived and approached the cabinet sitting at the end of the hall. It looked completely nondescript – so much so that even _he_ who had dealt with his fair share of magical objects while employed at Borgin and Burkes had failed to identify it.

It was only two weeks prior when he had discovered that it was far more than an old cabinet. And even that had been by lucky chance: he was just leaving the passage that led from his dormitory to the Trophy Room when he saw Markus Avery walking quickly through the adjacent corridor, looking exceptionally shifty. Tom's curiosity got the best of him, so he followed Avery out into the Armoury.

"Avery, what exactly are you doing?" he asked nonchalantly, just as Markus was opening the door the cabinet.

Clearly, he hadn't heard Tom's footsteps behind him, because he jumped in surprise and immediately spun around to face him. "Oh, erm, nothing…I just lost my Transfigurations book and thought I might check here…"

Tom smirked in amusement at this all-too-obvious lie. "You know I'm not going to report you."

Markus still looked hesitant to tell him, but nodded, glancing around them to ensure that no one else was around. "Alright…well, you've heard of ECB…right?"

Of course he had; a fairly large portion of the Slytherin House was addicted – not that Tom really cared, so long as they showed up to his little club and followed his orders.

Tom gave him an impatient look, and Markus then quickly continued on with his explanation: "I've been selling it for a while." He was suddenly sporting a proud grin as he added, "Actually, I'm the only one selling."

"I know," Tom rolled his eyes.

Markus seemed quite unnerved by this. "What? How? Did Rose-"

"No," he snapped, feeling almost immediately worked up just at the mention of her name. He took a breath and forced himself to relax once more, allowing a rather proud expression of his own to slide onto his face. "I'm Head Boy and I run a clandestine anti-mudblood organization, Avery. It would be extraordinarily reckless not to keep tabs on everyone involved."

He nodded, but looked quite unnerved once more, probably wondering exactly what else Tom knew about him.

"The cabinet," Tom reminded him impatiently once more.

"Ah, right. Well, my – erm – _supplier_ and I have to meet up pretty often and with all the added security, he suggested that this would be the best way to go to and from the castle. The other one is at Borgin and Burkes, actually."

This information piqued Tom's interest for several reasons:

1\. He certainly knew what a Vanishing Cabinet _was_, but he had yet to use one and was now quite eager to do so.

2\. It had been just down the hall from his dormitory all this time; he had walked by it innumerable times and thought absolutely nothing of it until this very moment.

3\. Nor had he noticed its partner in Borgin and Burkes during his time of employment, which was perhaps the biggest surprise of all. He thought he had memorized the _entire_ contents of the shop…(Although, when he tried using it for the first time he discovered that it was being stored in the basement of the shop, which he had only seen once or twice).

4\. He was absolutely desperate to find a way to leave Hogwarts unnoticed. Attending the various Tournament events with Professor Dumbledore over the past few months had driven him entirely mad. While, sadly, his discovery of the cabinet came too late to spare him from this torture (the scouting events had ended just the weekend prior and even if they hadn't it would have looked far too suspicious if he told Dippet and Dumbledore he had stopped attending them), he could certainly use it for his meetings with Beaumont and some of his training sessions.

Since then, Tom had made several trips to Knockturn and Diagon Alley, many of which were for no particular reason other than to escape the school for just a few hours and clear his head. Even better, he had built such a positive rapport with Mr. Burke over the summer that Tom was provided with his own key to the place the first time he used the Vanishing Cabinet, so he could come and go whenever he pleased.

But this particular night was all business. Well, as 'all-business' as a meeting with Raoul Beaumont could possibly be; it continued to elude him how exactly it was possible for someone who was as much of a drunken buffoon as Raoul to attain such an abundance wealth and power.

"_Lumos_."

As the shop had already closed for the evening, the basement was pitch-black when he arrived. Tom made his way up the creaking staircase, let himself out the front door, and stepped carefully down the ice-covered street that led to Diagon Alley. It was an exceptionally cold winter and, as evidenced by the white blanket covering each building, London had seen its fair share of snow.

Raoul was finishing his dinner while examining the newest copy of _The Daily Prophet_ when Tom finally arrived at the pub. He didn't glance up when Tom slid into the booth across from him, but said: "Clearly you didn't take my advice."

"No one knows I'm here," Tom rolled his eyes slightly.

Beaumont folded his paper and looked at him. "Half this pub probably knows you from the Tournament alone."

Tom smirked. "You have a point. I _am_ rather famous."

"Thanks to me." Raoul eyed him reproachfully. "Getting caught sneaking out of school and banned from attending your trainings seems like a pretty awful way to repay me."

"I suppose…_if_ I were to get caught. But I won't."

Beaumont pushed his plate away from him and sighed in frustration.

"This is infinitely better than bringing _Dumbledore_ everywhere I go."

"It's amazing. In some ways, you're so ahead of your years, but in others, you're the most immature person I've probably ever met."

Tom glared at him and snapped, "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Well it's not like he isn't doing you a favor, you know. Would it kill you to be at least somewhat appreciative?"

"I didn't ask him to do anything for me. He clearly agreed just because he knew that I'd hate it."

"If that is truly the case then I have to give him at least some credit, because this apparent plan to get under your skin has obviously worked."

Tom glared at him.

Raoul let out a small laugh. "Honestly, Tom, you've got to stop being so paranoid. You're going to drive yourself mad. And I'm still not quite sure what you have against him –"

"He's an insufferable, arrogant piece of –"

"– but you could probably learn quite a bit from him. As you know, I have spoken with him quite a bit over the course of the scouting events…and he knows his stuff. Especially when it comes to Dueling."

Tom held his breath and grew quiet, still glaring across the table at his sponsor. He was far too angry to allow himself to respond out loud in such a public location, especially when the only things flashing across his mind were dark curses and obscenities.

The bartender cleared Raoul's plate and asked if either of them cared for a drink.

"Scotch. Neat, please," Tom said tightly.

"Make that two, Mindy," Raoul said. Thankfully, as she walked away from their table, he elected to take the subject away from Dumbledore: "So, does the school leave for the holidays tonight, or tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." He was still quite angry at Beaumont for all of his irritating comments, but his temper was slowly beginning to subside.

"Any plans?"

Raoul of all people should have known the answer to this question; he was quite aware of the fact that Tom didn't have any family, after all. It was clear that he was just making small talk, which Tom absolutely loathed. Over the past few months, he had learned that small talk was a necessary evil when it came to Beaumont, something that Tom simply had to endure if they were ever going to reach any topic related to the Tournament (which, of course, was the real reason behind their meeting in the first place). The more he played along, the faster they would get down to business.

Tom shook his head. "You?"

Beaumont shook his head as well, which didn't come as much of a surprise. It wasn't like he had any family either. "I might get together with a few old friends." The bartender set down their drinks and Raoul took a long sip of his before saying, "Anyway, the real reason I brought it up was… Well, I was wondering if you wanted to come and stay at my home for the holidays."

Tom felt uneasy and on-edge almost instantly, as he was suspicious that Raoul had only made the offer out of pity for Tom's lack of someplace besides Hogwarts to spend Christmas. "Thanks, but I'll pass," he said quickly, afraid that Raoul would interpret a pause as him actually considering it.

He shrugged. "It's up to you…But you wouldn't have to sneak out of Hogwarts for training. I've spoken with Headmaster Dippet already, actually, and he said that he would make an exception in lieu of the fact that I am not your legal guardian. If you stay there, you know you'll have to take Dumbledore to some of them to keep him from getting suspicious. You could avoid him during the entire holiday this way."

Well, he certainly had a point. Perhaps Tom was wrong – the offer _wasn't_ out of mere pity, so it seemed.

"Oh, and I was planning on taking a short trip to Rome to meet with some of the Tournament organizers. I was hoping to invite you along, but not if you'll be staying at the school."

This last bit really caught his attention. Regardless of how potentially uncomfortable it would be to stay at Raoul's house, he couldn't simply pass up something like a meeting with the organizers. Tom nodded and took a drink of his scotch. "Alright."

Beaumont looked pleased. "Good." Then he leaned forward in his seat and lowered his voice. "You know, Rosemary is welcome to visit you anytime, too."

Tom gripped his glass tighter. He kept forgetting that Raoul still didn't know. "That won't be necessary."

"Playing it safe, eh? That's probably the smartest thing to do…though I wouldn't have expected that from you."

He gritted his teeth and his grip tightened even more. As he had done countless times in the past several weeks, he tried to push out the flood of memories that crashed through his mind during these unpredictable moments of weakness. He attempted to distract himself with thoughts of literally anything else, while simultaneously cursing the few lingering remnants of the pitiful person he used to be.

"Shit, Riddle!"

Tom snapped himself out of his own head to see Beaumont calling over the bartender and asking for some towels. He looked down at his glass to find that it was a glass no more. The pieces had scattered across the table and a good number of them were embedded in his palm; he could tell which ones had been coated in liquor because they stung the most.

While Raoul seemed to be in a state of complete panic over the situation, Tom calmly took out his wand and began extracting the pieces of glass one by one and mending the cuts they left behind. Then he waved his wand again and the pool of scotch surrounding his hand vanished. When the bartender finally made it over to them with a couple of towels, Tom handed the repaired glass up to her. "Sorry about that," he said smoothly.

Both she and Beaumont stared at him for a moment, likely in complete awe of how quickly he had both mended his hand and flawlessly fixed the glass.

"What was _that_ about?" Raoul asked as she strode away from the table once more.

"Nothing," Tom shrugged. "It was just an accident."

"Right. It's completely normal to just shatter a glass here and there for no reason whatsoever." Raoul looked at him for a long time and Tom said nothing in response. Then, suddenly: "…Are you and Rosemary going through some sort of a rough patch? If you need to talk about it –"

"There's nothing to talk about," Tom snapped.

"Clearly." Beaumont cleared his throat. "Well, I'm sure you'll think of some way to make it up to her."

"There's no need."

Raoul laughed. "Don't be a fool. Even if a girl says things are fine again, you still need to do _something_."

Tom grew silent, hoping that Raoul would just drop it. Didn't he understand that this was not even remotely his business? Was a little privacy when it came to his personal life really too much to ask?

The sponsor's eyes suddenly widened and he said: "Merlin, Tom, what did you _do_?"

"Does it matter?" he snarled angrily. He tried to tell himself to stop and say nothing more, but thanks to Raoul's interminable pestering, his temper pushed him over the edge. The next thing he knew, he was saying: "She and I are through. There. I said it. Are you happy now? Any other details of my personal life that you're just dying to know?"

That certainly got him to shut his mouth. At least momentarily. "I…Wow. I'm really sorry to hear that, Tom."

"Don't be. I'm better off…" He paused and for some inexplicable reason, he found himself thinking of just an hour or so prior, when he saw Cramer waiting for her in the corridor. "We both are."

Raoul shook his head. "I don't believe that for one second. You're never going to find another girl like her, you know."

Tom found himself smiling at the older man's ignorance.

Because wasn't that sort of the point?

* * *

"_Those days are gone, and good fucking riddance to them; unhappiness really meant something back then. Now it's just a drag, like a cold or having no money. If you really wanted to mess me up, you should have got to me earlier." ― Nick Hornby_

* * *

**I'm back! :D**

**First of all, I want to thank ALL of you for being so patient while I took a little vacation from writing. My life seems to be under control (at least for now...) and I'm super excited to get back to updating regularly! I also owe a special thank you to all of you lovely people that reviewed the finale of Part I: mmanjari14, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, Lady Ravanna, Mrs. TomMarvoloRiddle, CharlotteBlackwood, Queentakesjack, RosiePosie15, A regrettable decision, Guest, s8xyvriska, FemmeFerret, RainbowKitteh13, Marauders5ever, and Oksanallex.**

**There's lots of drama in store, so stay tuned - I plan on updating every Wednesday. ****Welcome to Part II! **


	52. Part II - Gin and Tidings

Gin and Tidings

_December 25, 1944_

It was Christmas morning and Rosemary was completely alone.

Sure, her parents claimed that they _wanted_ to spend it with her. But there had been an issue at Comet that her father left to attend to and her mother was at some charity event.

Well, she wasn't _completely_ alone, she supposed...She had Zisly, her family's house elf, who would make her whatever she liked for breakfast. She also had gin. Gin was good.

Despite the fact that she already had a nice buzz at ten in the morning, she poured herself another cocktail and settled onto the chaise lounge near the fireplace, staring into the tall flames. She felt exhausted, which was unfortunate considering the fact that professors seemed to be assigning more coursework over the holidays than ever before. It occurred to her that plenty of things would have been far more constructive than drinking, but she had absolutely no motivation to even so much as attempt them.

Over the last three months at Hogwarts, she had done everything in her power to keep up with her coursework, display a constant illusion of happiness, and, most importantly, ignore Tom Riddle. But now that the holidays had arrived and there was no longer anything to strive for or an act that she needed to put on, she allowed exhaustion to overcome her. It felt sort of nice to give in to, in a way, but it was also rather depressing.

She continued to stare into the blaze and downed the remainder of her fourth cocktail, wondering what all of her attempts to maintain a normal, functioning life were even for. As ardently as she had fought and ignored that pestering voice in the back of her mind over the past several weeks, in her fragile, half-drunk state she was forced to confront the fact that without him, everything felt like nothing.

But how could this be? When she first broke things off with him, she had been so sure that it was the right thing to do. And it felt that way for a while; she was relieved that there was no longer a need to choose him over her family or to deal with the tension of her arrangement with Warren. She thought she would regain something if she left him – balance in her life, perhaps.

However, when she truly looked reality in the face, she realized that she hadn't really gained anything. All she really felt was loss. Not only had she lost Tom as her closest friend, the rest of her social circle had slowly begun fading away, too. She rarely spoke to Faye or Markus any longer. The only person she really talked to anymore was Warren, who she still hadn't informed of the split in fear that, if he knew, he would expect her to actually start dating him. And she couldn't exactly break things off with him, either – if she did, her father would just assume that she was secretly seeing Tom again. And even if he didn't, the inevitable courtship of her to someone of _his_ choosing would begin.

But it was clear that she needed to tell Warren soon; he kept acknowledging Tom whenever they passed him in the halls, giving him friendly, "knowing" looks as though they were best mates and the "favor" he thought he was doing them was as trivial as sharing his class notes. She had no idea if Tom knew of Warren's ignorance on the matter or not, but she definitely wanted to put an end to the looks before another confrontation happened.

A chill went down her spine at the memory of that terrible night. It was still vivid in her mind, which was probably a good thing…As much as she missed him, as pointless as her life sometimes felt without him in it, that single memory served as a firm reassurance that she had made the right choice. Because deep down, she knew that the person she missed no longer existed. He had changed somewhere along the line…

And he had _certainly_ kept on changing since then.

Even with all this firmly planted in her mind, the memories of what once was continued to eat at her. Suddenly, as though her body had acted on its own accord, she found herself sitting on the floor of her bedroom with half the contents of her trunk scattered around her, holding a familiar, intricately carved wooden box in her hands. She took a breath and opened it, then promptly closed it once more.

If she was going to proceed, she would need more liquor.

Rose opened the box once more, filled with new courage after another swig of gin. There, staring back at her, was a picture of them at the Sweethearts Ball last February. Professor Beery was on photographer duty all evening and had snapped a picture of them talking while they danced. She had forgotten how happy they were then: so excited, just beginning to fall in love…

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes and she quickly put the picture aside, examining the rest of the box's contents. There was a note they had passed one day in class, various newspaper clippings of Tom's Dueling triumphs, a program from the Tournament, a list of books to read that he had scribbled down for her, and the beautiful sapphire earrings he had given her on her last birthday.

Rose looked down at this modest assortment of things, wishing she could make herself smile at each of them. She yearned to feel that that sort of mellowed nostalgia that would make her simply thankful for the memories, nothing more and nothing less.

But really she was just sad.

Rose snapped out of her thoughts and hurriedly began tossing everything back into the box as she heard Zisly greet someone at the front door; she had been so caught up in everything she hadn't even heard them knock.

Then, seconds later, Zisly appeared at her bedroom door. "Miss Rosemary, Mr. Warren Cramer is here to see you…" The elf trailed off and gave her a disapproving look as she struggled to stand. Perhaps she drank a bit more than she originally thought. "Should I tell him you're not feeling well?"

Her first instinct (and probably the only rational response considering she was completely plastered and still in her nightgown) was to say 'Yes. Definitely.', but she instead found herself saying: "No. I'll be down in a moment." Apparently _some_ part of her thought it would be a good idea to speak with Warren that morning. Probably the same, stupid part of her that thought looking at her box of Tom Riddle memorabilia was a good idea.

Zisly nodded hesitantly and returned downstairs to inform him, while Rosemary quickly performed a Hair-Smoothing Charm and slipped a silk robe on over her nightgown. Then she teetered down the hall and gripped the railing as she walked cautiously down the staircase to prevent herself from tumbling down it.

Warren was waiting for her in the sitting room and he regarded her with surprise when she finally walked in. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"No," she shook her head, forcing a smile to appear on her face as she slid into the chair facing his. "I'm just not feeling well this morning." She attempted to enunciate her words more than usual so that he wouldn't pick up on her intoxicated state.

He looked at her in concern. "Sorry to hear. Well, I won't stay long. I just wanted to stop in and say Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas to you too, Warren."

There was an uncomfortable silence between them for a couple of seconds. Then: "I was wondering if you wanted to visit Diagon Alley with me tomorrow? I thought it might be nice to walk around, maybe get some lunch? If you feel better, of course."

She wasn't sure if he was only asking her as part of their 'act' or if it was because he still fancied her and genuinely wanted to spend time with her, but it was probably a bit of both. "Sure," she nodded. "That sounds lovely." It wasn't as though she really had anything better to do.

"Brilliant." He smiled. "Well, I'll leave so you can rest, then."

Warren stood and she watched him as he put his coat back on, wondering if his smile was fake. Did he think that she had only agreed to go with him as part of their ploy to trick her parents?

A wild thought suddenly crossed her mind: what if everything between them was no longer an act? What if she actually gave him a chance? After all, her parents would make damn sure that she ended up with _someone_. Plus, objectively at least, Warren _was_ the perfect boyfriend. He was athletic, intelligent, attractive in a stereotypical sense, upbeat, and, unlike a certain person who shall not be named, he wasn't overly cocky or (more importantly) potentially dangerous. Not to mention the fact that he was a pureblood and her family adored him. In theory, when considering these factors alone, she probably should have fallen for him a long time ago. So perhaps, she thought, if she _really_ gave him a chance, she would eventually feel some sort of spark for him.

It wasn't the first time that she had had these thoughts since her relationship with Tom came to an end, but the alcohol and her desperation to get over him after going through her box of mementos gave her the push she needed.

"I've been thinking about what you said to me, back at Comet," she said abruptly, lowering her voice so Zisly wouldn't overhear them.

Warren stopped putting on his jacket and frowned slightly. "I thought we were going to forget that ever happened."

"I know. I just thought that if you still feel the same way…Maybe we should give it a go…"

_Please don't make me regret this._

"What about Riddle?" A look of confusion spread across his face, but it transformed into a wide grin as she said:

She took a breath. "We're finished."

"Really?!"

She thought about snapping at him for looking so happy about this news, but her inner exhaustion prevailed instead. "Yes," she nodded.

He didn't ask for any details, which she was thankful of - she would have felt enormously guilty lying about what truly happened to him. Warren was clueless as ever and she aimed to keep it that way. Instead, he walked over to her, leaned in, and kissed her cheek. His clearly elated smile showed no evidence of disappearing anytime soon. "Well, yes, let's give it a go then!"

Rosemary was quite relieved that he hadn't tried to kiss her on the mouth in fear that he would taste the alcohol on her and that it would still feel like kissing a cousin. She stood and walked with him to the front door, where he kissed her cheek again and said, "I'll see you tomorrow…for our date."

For the next few hours, the whole scene would play on a loop in her head and she would wonder what exactly she had been thinking. Had she gone completely mental? How was she going to miraculously develop feelings for Warren?

But she would, she kept telling herself. It would just take time.

There was another part of her that worried what might happen if Tom found out that they were _actually_ going steady – would he try to attack Warren again? Then again, wouldn't he have already done so if he was going to? After all, she had continued her fake relationship with Warren even after she and Tom were through. Would he really be able to tell the difference between their fake dating and actual dating?

_If he's still reading your thoughts, then yes._

This was perhaps the most unnerving part of their entire breakup: he had left her extraordinarily paranoid – even inside her own mind. Did he know that she missed him almost all of the time? Did he know about how wary of him she had become? Was there _anything_ that she could still hide from him?

* * *

"_I'm thinking most of the time, so it doesn't really lend to a smile." – Elizabeth Grant_

* * *

"Are you _sure_ you don't want to go?"

Tom nodded without looking up from his copy of _Declassified Duels of the Last Century: An Auror's Tale_, quickly growing annoyed with Beaumont's pestering. He had spent Christmas alone for years and was perfectly fine with it; why should this one be any different? Wasting his day with Raoul's old mates from school and their families was precisely the last thing he wanted to do.

"Suit yourself," the sponsor finally gave in. "But just know that you're missing out – Marcel's wife makes the best plum pudding you'll ever taste."

Tom said nothing in response, hoping that he would finally take the hint.

"Last chance…" he said expectantly, as though he actually thought that Tom would be sufficiently tempted. When Tom simply shook his head in response, still refusing to look up from the pages, Raoul said resolutely: "Very well, then. I'll be back this evening…Help yourself to whatever you can find in the kitchen."

Beaumont left shortly after and Tom was finally alone, free to enjoy his reading in peace. He finished the book in the next hour and moved on to _Sites of Historical Sorcery_, which was considerably less interesting.

It was then that he realized the house was silent; so silent, in fact, that it was almost distracting. Tom continued his attempts to pour himself back into his reading once more, but was only partially successful. He felt inexplicably restless all of a sudden.

He sighed and marked his place in the book, even though he had only ventured a few pages into it. While he stood to stretch his legs, he glanced around the room for something to occupy himself. There were a few issues of _Duelist's Weekly _scattered upon a nearby coffee table, the contents of which he had already read at least three times. A wizard's chess board also caught his eye from across the room, but playing against himself didn't sound all that enjoyable either.

Instead, Tom found himself striding over to the window and glancing down at the various passersby on the crowded street below. There were several couples walking hand-in-hand, beaming like ignorant fools, and at least a dozen small children running about. _Muggles._

Tom scowled and turned away from the glass, wondering why Beaumont had settled for a house in the middle of an area teeming with Muggles. If the house itself was any indication, it wasn't as though Raoul couldn't afford to live somewhere that was far more removed from Muggle society. Through his time at Wool's Orphanage, during all those summers in which he had been forced to return from Hogwarts, Tom had learned to loathe the city and its overabundance of Muggles. Wizarding-only places like Diagon and Knockturn Alley were his sanctuaries in London. Then again, he knew from his own housing search the previous summer that finding a flat in Diagon Alley was extraordinarily rare and those in Knockturn Alley were surely far too sordid for Raoul's taste. Nor did he strike Tom as the type to live outside the city in a more rural area. So, even though Tom absolutely detested it, he supposed that Raoul's choice in location made sense.

Given Beaumont's numerous eccentricities, it really shouldn't have come as much of a surprise anyway. And numerous they were, indeed: in the short amount of time that had passed since Tom arrived for the holidays, he had discovered plenty more. One of which that continued to baffle him was the fact that someone who was as wealthy as Raoul was lacked a house elf. Even more puzzling was how spotless the house was, as though it had scarcely been lived in. Perhaps, he thought, Raoul simply spent all of his nights with the women he flirted with in pubs…or maybe he invited them over and they ended up cleaning his flat for him the next morning…

Tom shuddered in disgust at the thought and made his way upstairs to the guest bedroom in which he was staying. He propped his back against the foot of his bed after retrieving his diary from his trunk, opening it to the numbered list of all twenty-seven things he wanted to accomplish over the holidays. With only partial satisfaction, given the fact that he felt especially unproductive that morning, he crossed out: _5\. Read Declassified Duels_.

On the blank page opposite the list, the words "_Is that all?_" suddenly appeared.

"_Yes_," he scrawled back, rolling his eyes.

He could tell that the fifth-year version of himself was rolling his eyes right back at him when he read: "_Don't fall off course again…the last thing we need is another Rosemary Horton situation._"

Tom glared down at the diary before abruptly tossing it back into his trunk, frustrated by this blatant reminder of his nearly year-long blunder. But then, realizing he had little motivation to do much of anything other than sit and talk to himself (as loony as that might sound), he hastily removed it once more and opened it back up to the same page.

"_Far from it,_" he started. "_There are plenty of things I've already planned for when I return to Hogwarts, as you know._"

"_True enough…But there are some things that will be much more difficult to accomplish at Hogwarts – namely, discovering the source of Raoul Beaumont's wealth and power…_"

That was #3 on Tom's list. While the thought had crossed his mind several times that morning after Raoul told him he would be out for the day, he remained rather hesitant. The prospect of snooping through the belongings of someone as exceptionally private about his wealth as Raoul was made him uneasy. What if he was caught and Raoul was angry enough to revoke Tom's sponsorship? It was for this reason that he hadn't dared to use Legilimency to find out – a glimpse of Raoul's past was by no means worth losing his place in the Tournament.

Then again, snooping around the house was far less risky than attempting Legilimency and Beaumont _was_ supposed to be gone for hours. Not to mention the fact that the source of Raoul's influential position was something Tom had been mystified by for months…

In the end, predictably, Tom's curiosity won out and he found himself striding down the hall toward Beaumont's office. He opened the door and glanced around: the walls inside were filled with plaques recognizing his role as a leading sponsor in the Tournament and there were nearly two decades worth of photographs featuring him and his team from each year. Looking around at the lot of it was sort of depressing, in a way – was the Tournament _all_ that Raoul had in his life? Not that Tom cared…he supposed he just found it rather pathetic.

He sat down at the sponsor's desk and tried a couple of the drawers – locked. Fortunately, a few simple Unlocking Charms was all it took and Tom immediately began exploring the contents of each. The top left drawer was where he began, flipping through a large stack of papers which he quickly recognized as the personal files of Beaumont's current team – including his own. Normally getting his hands on such valuable information would have been more than enough to distract him from the task at hand, but thanks to the access that his position as Raoul's scouting assistant had granted him, he had taken the opportunity to memorize each file's contents weeks ago.

The other drawers also held little that was of interest to him: an assortment of quills, a deck of self-shuffling playing cards, a few Fizzing Whizzbees wrappers, and a small bottle of Firewhiskey. Tom drew his wand, locking up the desk once more. He supposed he should have known that if he wanted answers, he would have to do a bit more digging.

With this in mind, he began combing through the house from top to bottom as thoroughly as he possibly could (given the residence's considerable size). During his pursuit, a number of things struck him, but perhaps the most prominent of all was just how tidy every inch of the place was. This particular revelation left no doubt in his mind: Raoul Beaumont was hiding something. Why else would a middle-aged man, living entirely alone, keep his house _this_ clean?

Although, when he was still empty-handed nearly an hour and a half later, he was beginning to get discouraged. His relatively advanced Detection Spell that he casted room-by-room should have been sufficient to, at the very least, point him in the direction of any sort of protective magic guarding Beaumont's alleged secret. But once again, his spell had turned up nothing and he was faced with the prospect of manually searching the entire room. It was perhaps unsurprising that room after room of this pattern was causing the project's intrigue to vanish exponentially.

He paced across the floor of Raoul's bedroom, contemplating whether or not he should simply abandon his search and pick something a bit more productive to do from the list in his diary.

_Yes_, he thought. _This is completely and utterly pointless._

With that, he turned and walked briskly toward the door, only to find himself stop in his tracks just before he reached it. There was something that itched at him: he had already invested a good chunk of time that afternoon and it would be a complete waste if he didn't find out at least _one_ thing related to Raoul's climb to considerable power and wealth.

_Just this last room_, he bargained with himself as he opened the bottom drawer of Raoul's nightstand.

Amidst yet another collection of junk, a gleam of silver caught his eye. He reached for it, which turned to be a badge with "MAGI, Inc." in large, embossed lettering and Raoul's name etched just beneath it. The name of the company was annoyingly familiar; wherever he knew it from was just out of his memory's reach.

So…Raoul was a desk jockey at one point? Obviously he didn't have _that_ high of a position; surely if he did, the house would be littered with evidence of this. Beaumont certainly didn't strike him as the type to miss a potential opportunity to brag about his accomplishments. Convinced that he had merely stumbled onto a piece of ancient history, perhaps a memento from an internship Raoul had held before acquiring his riches, he tossed it back into the drawer and strode out of the room.

Enough was enough, he supposed. Clearly his hunt had been a complete waste of time. Perhaps he would simply work up the nerve to use Legilimency on Raoul over the holiday; all he knew was that he wasn't willing to waste any more time or energy on it that afternoon. His time and energy were _way_ too important for that.

He walked downstairs and toward the living room to start in on _Sites of Historical Sorcery _once more; it wasn't too late to get at least one productive thing done that afternoon. Even with his resolve to end his search, that business: _MAGI_, kept popping into his mind. Where on Earth had he heard of it before that day? Was it one of the donors to the Tournament?

A temporary distraction from all this came in the form of a small, folded piece of paper just near the door, which Raoul must have dropped on the way out. Tom crossed the foyer and hastily unfolded it. He recognized it immediately as a clipping from _The Daily_ _Prophet_ and in the middle of the page was the headline: _Albus Dumbledore Presented Award for Spell Mechanics Consulting at MAGI._

So _that_ was where he recognized MAGI from. He had read the article earlier that week – well, half of it at least, before he could no longer stand to listen to the ridiculous praise

But what he didn'tremember were the words written next to the article in Beaumont's familiar scrawl:

_25__th__, 4 p.m. Dragon's Breath Pub._

But wasn't Beaumont with his friends? Tom glanced up at the clock – 4:45. Why was he meeting someone in the middle of the afternoon on Christmas, of all days? More importantly, _who_ was he meeting?

Curiosity burned within him for the second time that day. The pub _was_ just down the street…he could just walk there, see whoever it was that Raoul was meeting with, and come back, completely unnoticed.

As he set out into the cold, his mind was racing with questions that begged to be answered. What was Raoul's actual connection to MAGI? Why was that old fool, Dumbledore, doing Spell Mechanics consulting for them? What exactly _was_ MAGI, anyway?

All but one of the pub's windows was covered in frost. Tom stepped closer to the glass, spotting the two men almost instantly, and stopped abruptly in his tracks. He was so taken aback that he failed to notice the filthy Muggles that occasionally bumped into him on the crowded street.

There, sitting across from Beaumont and looking positively chummy, was none other than Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

**I know, I know. I'm the worst. I feel terrible for posting a day late, but I'm still trying to figure out my school/writing/work/social/sleep balance. Your patience while I work through everything is most appreciated!(:**

**Thank you so much to my lovely reviewers: x2leoj, LimitedLegendFTW, Lady Ravanna, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, Oksanallex, OptimusPrimegirl123, Queentakesjack, A regrettable decision, and RosiePosie15!**

**Also, I know that Rose is probably super annoying to some of you right now, but she'll become a much more dynamic character very shortly! There's lots of exciting stuff coming your way - this is only the beginning of Part II, after all, and I plan to have just as many twists and turns in the next 48 chapters as there were in Part I!(; See you next Wednesday (or possibly earlier to make up for posting a day late)!**


	53. Part II - The Partnership Proposition

**Soooo I'm back. You are all probably a bit pissed at me (which is totally justifiable), but I guess my only excuse is that life happened. Grad school is way more work than I was anticipating and then I got caught up dealing with some things in my personal life too...BUT I have not abandoned the fic! I may miss a few updates here and there, but I promise I won't ever just leave you hanging permanently. Anyway, thank you so much to those of you who are still around to read TDLR! Let's get on with it, then:**

* * *

The Partnership Proposition

_December 26, 1944_

Thankfully, her hangover had eased by the time Warren stopped by her house to pick her up the next morning. It was free of other headaches, too: she fully expected that her mother would eye her with disdain when Rose announced that she would be traveling to Diagon Alley and shopping the post-holiday discounts (as Evelyn generally discouraged any sort of behavior that would make their family come off as even remotely cheap), but Warren's presence spared her the discomfort.

Diagon Alley was as bustling as ever when they arrived, despite the rumors that the wizarding hub had been all but deserted in the looming threat of Grindelwald. Apparently, the arrival of the holidays was a sufficient distraction for most – things seemed positively copacetic that morning.

They strode together down the main drag, talking lightly and stopping in a store every so often. First was the Magical Menagerie, then Flourish and Blotts where she was forced to tear herself away from the allure of undiscovered knowledge as a courtesy to Warren. After all, they _were_ on their first real date: a reality that had yet to wholly sink in.

Rose truly was having a pleasant time, though admittedly she wasn't much of a shopper unless it entailed browsing things like books or something academic-related. Warren must have caught on to her selective enthusiasm because when they reached Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary, he stopped and asked her if she wanted to go inside.

"Sure," she smiled at him, supposing that it was rather sweet that he had anticipated what she wanted to do.

The herby aroma that greeted them as they stepped through the entrance was oddly comforting; it took her back in time to the hundreds of potions she had brewed over the years and her childhood adventures with her grandfather, when they had spent hours foraging in the woods for rare ingredients to replenish his personal stores.

She stepped along the rows and rows of glass jars as Warren followed closely behind her, pretending to take an interest. While she appreciated the effort, she wasn't fooled – Potions and Herbology were by far his worst subjects.

Rosemary was in the middle of telling herself that she should wrap up her browsing before it became tiresome to Warren, just as she had done at Flourish and Blotts when a jar of dried lily buds caught her eye. She lost herself in gloomy nostalgia for a few seconds, remembering Valentine's Day morning just under a year ago, when she had awoken in the library surrounded by hundreds of the flowers as a gift from Tom. Before that day, she had never so much as heard of them, but after that day she had done extensive reading into their use in Potions.

It all felt much longer ago than it really was. What happened to the Tom she knew in the beginning?

These thoughts quickly dissipated as she heard a familiar voice: "Long time no see, Horton."

She glanced to her right and saw Jasper Donohue standing before her, wearing a dark green apron and a black quill perched on his right ear which stood out considerably against his light blonde hair. "Good to see you, Jasper," she smiled pleasantly. She had completely forgotten that he worked in the store – in fact, the idea of Jasper having a job at all remained a rather foreign concept to her after his several years of doing whatever he pleased with no responsibility.

He turned to Warren. "My apologies – what was your name, again?"

"No worries mate," Warren replied with a kind smile, though she thought she could hear a bit of tension in his voice. "It's Warren Cramer."

He snapped his finger. "That's right. So, what brings the two of you in today?"

"Just shopping around," Rosemary shrugged. "How was your holiday?"

Jasper's smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he said, "Oh, you know, rather stressful. But with family around that's relatively expected."

Rosemary nodded in agreement and assumed she would hear all about whatever situation he was referring to through Faye.

Jasper cleared his throat. "Anyway…I suppose I could do my job: are you looking for anything particular today?"

"Not really; I just enjoy looking at everything." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Warren fidgeting slightly and knew that he was ready to leave. "Well, we should be off. There are a few other stores to visit before lunch."

Faye's brother nodded and looked at her with his sharp gaze for what felt like a long time, but it was really only a couple of seconds. Then, he looked around and leaned in toward her, his voice dropping to a half-whisper as he said: "You know, our shipment from South America is set to arrive tomorrow and there will be some _very_ rare finds. If you stop by afterhours sometime this week, I could give you a first look."

She was rather surprised that he suggested it; while she had known Jasper for years through Faye, they had never spent any significant amount of time together. Then again, they _had_ chatted quite a bit about potions and his job at Slug Club earlier that year...and she was rather curious to get a behind-the-scenes look at the store. Besides, it wasn't as though she had anything better to do for the rest of the holiday break; at least this was an excuse to get out of the house for a bit. "That sounds lovely. I'll plan on it," Rose smiled at him and gave him a wave goodbye.

"I'm sure he wants to give you a look of _something_," she thought she heard Warren mutter under his breath as they walked down the front steps of the shop.

Rosemary pretended she didn't hear him, rather bothered by the fact that his comment sounded quite like something Tom might say (though at least Warren's version of jealousy presumably didn't border on insanity).

Thankfully, any tension between them quickly dissipated as they rounded the corner and Warren spotted Quality Quidditch Supplies and Comet's broom showroom next to it. Suddenly, he turned to her and asked in an uncharacteristically nervous voice: "I know you're around Comet stuff all the time, but do you mind if we stop in?"

She was surprised that he actually seemed to be concerned with her entertainment – she could remember countless times that he had droned on to her about his Qudditch tales. Perhaps she had been too quick to assume that their new relationship would take on the same qualities that their friendship had; he really _was_ acting very sweet. It was a pleasant surprise that gave her a bit of much-needed reassurance about her decision to take things further with him.

Rose smiled at him, feeling rather optimistic for essentially the first time in weeks. "Of course."

Warren grinned and a childlike gleam appeared in his eyes as they strode through the entrance of Comet's showroom. The store assistant, a raven-haired twenty-something that looked relatively familiar, greeted both of them with considerable enthusiasm. He stepped out from behind the counter and asked if there was anything they needed help with and that their newest model, the Comet 191, was "setting the new standard for the future of broomsticks".

Clearly, he had no idea who either of them was.

Warren and Rose looked at each other in amusement before assuring the assistant that they were just browsing. He moved on to a couple of middle-aged wizards that had walked in behind them, while Rose followed Warren across the room to the wall-mounted display that held five Comet 191's.

She disregarded the large "Do Not Touch" sign below the display, unable to resist reaching out and running her hand along a brilliantly polished mahogany handle. "They're beautiful." She smiled at Warren, just about to congratulate him on the broom he had spent all summer working on, when she saw him frowning at one of the brochures containing the model's specifications. "What is it?"

"I'm sure he had his reasons," he said in a tone that was non-characteristically sad.

It caught her off guard and she gave him a concerned look. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing." Warren shook his head, his voice quickly returning to normal while a fake smile found its way on his face. "Let's get lunch."

Rose nodded and dropped it for the time being, though she knew from the silence between them as they left the store and started down the street toward The Leaky Cauldron that something was still bothering him. "Warren," she said, pulling him off the street and under a snow-covered tree. "What is it?"

At first he looked hesitantly at her, but then sighed and said: "The polish-protecting charm I developed over the summer didn't make it into the final model…" He ran a hand through his hair and added quickly: "Like I said, I'm sure your father had his reasons. I mean, obviously they came up with a better solution and I completely understand – but what if he thinks I'm not cut out to join the staff since I didn't come up with the right solution in the first place?"

Rosemary shifted uncomfortably, unsure of who to defend: Warren or her father. After all, it was a bit presumptuous of Warren to expect something he had developed as an intern to make it into a final model unchanged. But she did also see where he was coming from.

"I think that my father doesn't sell anything made by interns on principle, no matter how good it is. When you get hired after Hogwarts you could propose the exact solution and he'd probably include it in the final design."

"_If_ I get hired after Hogwarts."

She couldn't help but smile and roll her eyes. "Please. He adores you."

Warren smiled back at her and stepped close to her, placing his hands on the side of her arms. "Thank you. All of this means a lot coming from you."

He cared about getting a position at Comet so much that it was almost laughable. Rosemary realized in that moment that it was rather ironic that he, a naturally very talented Quidditch player, would rather become a Broom Engineer than obtain the glory that could come with a position on a World Cup team, but perhaps this was simply the Ravenclaw in him.

As Warren's eyes danced with hers, she became quite aware of what was going to come next. Her eyes closed automatically as his face slowly lowered to hers. Meanwhile, a whirlwind of thoughts raced through her mind and she found herself worrying about whether or not he would notice how chapped her lips were, if their kiss would have any sort of spark (unlike last time), and, more than anything else, if she were truly prepared to move on and kiss someone other than Tom.

But soon, none of it mattered anymore: his lips grazed softly against hers and their kiss was delightfully…

Ordinary.

It wasn't at all reminiscent of the passion she had felt for Tom through every kiss, every touch. But it didn't feel purely familial either, which was certainly a relief. As she allowed herself to sink into the moment, she realized how warm he was and could feel the strength of thousands of Quidditch matches and practices through his coat as she delicately placed her hands on his chest.

Just as she was thinking that kissing Warren was something she might actually be able to get used to, a sharp crack sounded overhead. Rosemary had yelped and jumped away from him in time, successfully evading the damage of the broken tree branch, but Warren on the other hand was abruptly covered from head to toe in snow.

They looked at one another for a few seconds, each of them making sense of what exactly had just happened. Then came the simultaneous burst into laughter.

"Look at that – somehow you managed to escape unscathed," Warren teased her as he began to brush himself off. "How coincidental…"

"What are you suggesting?" she asked him coyly.

He smirked. "Oh, I think you know." Then, out of seemingly nowhere, he lunged for her, grabbed her around the waist, and scooped up a handful of snow.

She knew exactly what he intended to do by the threatening look on his face. "Warren!" she screeched, attempting to squirm herself out of his grasp.

It was futile due to his strong grip, however, and soon the icy fluff had been dropped down the back of her shirt. She screamed and he finally released her while doubling over, roaring in laughter. Rose tried to glare at him as she flailed around and attempted to get the snow to drop down the back of her coat and onto the ground, but his laughter was infectious.

They were still giggling and bantering back and forth to each other when they finally walked into the crowded tavern for lunch and were seated. It wasn't until Warren excused himself for a few moments to say hello to a few of his Quidditch mates sitting on the other side of the pub that she glanced up to see Tom at the table directly adjacent to them.

Across from him sat Jennings and another man, who presumably had something to do with the Tournament as well. She was watching him as he took a sip of whatever he was drinking (scotch being the most likely candidate) when his eyes suddenly landed on hers.

Rosemary froze, unsure whether she should look away or acknowledge him. The way he was looking at her unnerved her – it couldn't be described as bitter, angry, or even neutral. It was simply empty, as if they were perfect strangers. But no, even that was a bit of a stretch. The truth in his eyes told her something much more unbearable:

To him, she no longer existed.

* * *

"_I would rather a romantic relationship turn into contempt than turn into apathy. The passion in the extremities make it appear as though it once meant something. We grow from hot or cold, but lukewarm is the biggest insult." ― Criss Jami_

* * *

She found herself in The Leaky Cauldron once again two days later as she was passing through on her way to see Jasper. The pub was just as crowded as it had been when she visited with Warren, but it certainly appeared to be a dodgier crowd. Not that this was surprising – it was quite late by the time she snuck out of her house.

As she exited the tavern and stepped into Diagon Alley's main street, she slipped on a bit of ice and bumped into a tall, cloaked figure who was smoking a cigarette. She glanced up as she went to apologize, but it was so dark outside that she couldn't even make out their face. "Sorry," she muttered as she hurried away down the street.

Rose could feel the eyes of the eerie, dark figure on her as she went and suddenly she was walking very quickly. About a minute or so later, she was one street over and knocking at the shop's front door, anxiously shifting back and forth between her feet. As she waited for Jasper to answer an odd feeling spread over her that made her feel as though she was being watched once more.

At first she was afraid to look around, but she did anyway, and spotted the same mysterious, cloaked figure rounding the street corner. Sufficiently startled, she knocked at the door again – a bit more forcefully this time. She chanced another glance down the street and the figure was quickly approaching.

Still no Jasper.

She was definitely regretting coming to town at such an hour – how could a few potions ingredients possibly be worth it?

Her heart began to pound in her chest and she was halfway through knocking a third time when she frantically reached down and tried the doorknob instead. To her surprise and immense relief, it was unlocked and she quickly let herself inside, not daring to look back at the street again.

Rose turned the deadbolt into place and let out a long exhale, though her heart was still racing from adrenaline. The shop was quite dark, but she spotted a horizontal band of light under one of the doors at the end of the hall.

"Jasper?" she called as she started toward it. When there was no answer, she tried calling his name again, this time from right outside the door.

Suddenly it swung open and there was Jasper, staring at her with surprise: "Rosemary? You came."

She nodded with a smile, relieved that it was he who had answered and not the shop owner, Mr. Mulpepper. _That_ might have been difficult to explain. "Sorry I just sort of barged in...The door was unlocked and I tried knocking..."

"My apologies…I'm just in the middle of preserving some ploosnar weed. Want to see?"

"Yes," she replied eagerly as Jasper stood aside and let her into the room.

"Actually, why don't I show you around a bit first?" He brought her over to a large, rectangular planter that took up an entire wall. It was filled with probably a hundred different species of plants, some that recognized instantly and others that she couldn't place at all. "We transplant much of what comes in until it's ready for preserving," he told her. Then, starting from the left, he gestured at each botanical and told her its name. "Here we have Gillyweed, Knotgrass…"

When he finished, he turned to her and grinned proudly when he saw the look of awe on her face. "And that's only the plants…I'd show you the rest of what we sell in the store – the beetles and powders – but there are other members of the staff that work with those sorts of things and it's all locked up in their personal workshops at the moment, I'm afraid."

"Not a problem," she said absentmindedly, too preoccupied examining the diverse collection of flora to actually listen to anything he was saying.

He smirked. "You're an absolute boffin…I suppose it's rather nice to know that some things never change."

"No, I'm not," she said she blushed and pulled her finger away from a young vine of Devil's Snare. Though sadly, she knew he was right – she adored learning about this sort of thing.

"Let me fascinate you further and show you the preserving method…Have a seat." He gestured to one of the stools next to a long work bench.

Rosemary watched intently as Jasper took the seat next to her and pulled on a pair of work gloves. Then he reached into a large jar of the bright purple ploosnar stems and took out a handful. He worked meticulously and explained the process as he went, first sorting out the ones that were high enough quality to sell and then diving into the complicated preserving method. It was rather difficult to reconcile the fact in her mind that this was indeed the same Jasper who spent much of his time at Hogwarts fucking around.

"So, do your parents know you're out this late?" he asked her while he doled out the finished product into about fifty identical glass jars and passed them to her so she could twist the lids on.

"No..."

Jasper smirked. "I thought not. You're not as saintly as they all say, are you?"

Rosemary shifted uncomfortably in her chair, wondering if he somehow knew about how she had blatantly defied her parents to be with Tom. Had Faye told him? No, she wouldn't have done that…but she probably _did_ tell him about their drunken exploits over the years.

"You see, I'm hoping you might consider…_collaborating_ with me on something." She could tell that he was trying to choose his words very carefully.

"On what?"

"Have you heard of ECB?"

She nodded, remembering the first time she had heard of it: that night in the Hogwarts Owlery earlier that year when she had found out that Markus was dealing. Rosemary had no idea where Jasper was going with this, but she was beginning to get a bad feeling about it all.

"Well, what would you think about brewing it?"

The glass jar she was holding toppled out of her hands and she caught it just in time before it rolled off the bench and shattered on the floor. "_What?_"

_Jasper_ was behind ECB? And he wanted _her_ to help?

"It'd be a partnership – you'd brew, I'd take care of the rest. In return, you'd be paid, of course…with money, if you want, but seeing as you're not exactly destitute, I was thinking something a payment more along the lines of things like _this_." He withdrew a small vial from his pocket labeled "Veela Hair" and held it up with a pointed look.

Rosemary almost gasped – Veela hair was a very tightly regulated ingredient and tremendously difficult to obtain.

"So…what do you say?" he prompted her, placing the vial on the bench right next to her hand.

She snapped out of her awe and said dryly: "I think I'll pass. Last I checked, the school generally frowns upon brewing narcotics."

"And? You'd be a perfect fit for the job."

"What in the bloody hell makes you say that? I'm _Head Girl_, you know…"

"Precisely."

She gave him an incredulous look.

"Nobody would ever suspect _you_, the innocent and proper Miss Rosemary Horton," Jasper smirked. "I know better and I know that I'm one of the very few who do. And it would stay that way – I wouldn't tell a soul. It would be just between us."

She glared at him. "It's already being sold, meaning someone's already brewing it."

"Well, I've certainly been doing my best on my own. I've been trying to work out the recipe mechanics for quite some time and I just can't get it quite right. I'm decent at Potions, but I'm certainly not you."

"I'm not _that_ good…" she couldn't help but blush.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that. I've had to listen to Faye complain about how you outshine everyone in that class for years."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. You'll have to find somebody else."

With Tom out of the picture, Rosemary was just getting used to the idea of having a life unbothered by complications…the last thing she needed was to throw another one in the mix. Especially one that would get her expelled.

"I could find somebody else, but I don't want to. After running into you the other day at the store, I was sold. You should be the one doing this…You'll do it justice."

Rosemary rolled her eyes. "It's brewing drugs, Jasper. There are probably kids making knock-off versions already."

"That's quite possible. But wouldn't it be nice to be responsible for coming up with the recipe that is both the safest and most effective? Kids will find a way to get what they want anyway…wouldn't you feel better as Head Girl knowing that they're at least using a safe version?"

Rose bit her lip and picked up the vial of Veela hair, examining it in the light. He had a point, she supposed. What if something awful happened to the students that she could have prevented? Plus, the prospect of expanding her collection of rare ingredients was quite tempting…

But of course, this would jeopardize everything in the face of the half-normal life she had attained. She had only begun getting back on track with her destiny: graduate from Hogwarts, settle down with a respectable man, have a perfect (or at least superficially perfect) life with the support of her family. It might be a somewhat depressing destiny in her eyes, but she had realized as of late that it no longer mattered. She was a Horton and regardless of what she might want, that fact alone was the governing element of her future.

And using her powers as Head Girl and her Potions talents to provide illicit substances to the Hogwarts student body was certainly not something a proper Horton lady would do.

She handed the vial back to Jasper. "I'm sorry. I can't."

He didn't seem particularly convinced as he smirked and said: "Alright, Rosemary. Well if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

* * *

**I know, no Tom. But next chapter is all him, so I'm going to make up for it! **

**A huge thank you to those of you that reviewed and really gave me the encouragement I needed to get things back on track with my writing: Mrs. TomMarvoloRiddle, Juti, Oksanallex, Queentakesjack, A regrettable decision, RosiePosie15, Khaaotic, Guest, MissCarbon, CharlotteBlackwood, and Guest!**


	54. Part II - The Grindylow Grove

The Grindylow Grove

_December 31, 1944_

Tom decided that spending his birthday on a tour of Wizarding Rome with the Tournament organizers was nothing short of ideal. Well it would have been _perfectly_ ideal if Beaumont, the traitor, hadn't been there. But he could deal with it – at least for the time being.

For the most part he had simply been ignoring Raoul anyway, ever since he had seen Dumbledore and him looking so bloody chummy over a drink. He still didn't know why they were meeting, nor did he really care any longer. All that mattered was that he would never trust Raoul again and that he'd be moving on to a new sponsor as soon as his contract was up.

When he arrived back at the hotel that evening, he hopped into bed and picked up his copy of _Secrets of the Darkest Art _for a bit of light, pre-bedtime reading. The perfect end to a near-perfect day.

Until he heard a knock at his hotel room door. He groaned and put his book aside, crossed the room, and peered through the tiny glass hole that looked into the hall.

Raoul. The _traitor. _

He knocked again, impatiently. "Tom I know you're awake, we only just got back. Don't you want to go out and _do_ something tonight? It's your birthday, after all."

Tom cracked the door open and said shortly: "I'm not all that interested. Thanks."

"Well, maybe you would be if you knew what I had in mind."

"I sincerely doubt that."

Tom was about to close the door when Raoul said: "Have you heard of The Grindylow Grove?"

"No," he said impatiently.

"I think you'd quite enjoy it…It's sort of a premier club – top government officials, executives, Tournament organizers – you have to be important to get in. And it just so happens that the owner owes me a favor or two. You'd have the opportunity to network with the crème de la crème…"

Amazingly enough, Tom was actually tempted. He supposed it would be foolish to pass up an opportunity such as this, even if it meant Raoul doing him a favor. But Tom didn't see it that way, of course: in his mind, he was merely exploiting Raoul's connections while he still had the chance.

They left soon after and they wound through a series of backstreets to another part of the city until finally, he stopped at a completely nondescript door on the corner of what appeared to be an apartment building.

He drew his wand and tapped the door handle nine times while chanting something in Italian that Tom didn't recognize. Finally about a minute or so later, the door swung open and then closed quickly behind them just after they stepped through. Inside, there was a long, dark hallway which they followed just halfway down, until Raoul stopped again and tapped the tip of his wand on a seemingly random stone three times.

And then they walked straight through the wall, just as Tom had done countless times to get to Platform 9 ¾.

Inside, the place was much larger than he had expected: three bars spread throughout the room, a stage where a woman dressed in a long black gown was singing softly with a jazzy accompaniment, and there were dozens of black leather couches and armchairs scattered throughout. Despite the size, it felt intimate; the haze of hundreds of cigarettes and cigars seemed to trap snippets of conversations, just waiting to be overheard.

Raoul steered him to the nearest bar, telling him who was who around the room. It took Tom only moments to decide: this was the sort of place he belonged, among the wizarding world's elite.

He split off from Raoul shortly after their trip to the bar and he worked his way around the room, striking up conversation after conversation. He was relieved to find that, at least for the most part, they spoke English. Before he knew it, two hours had passed and he had met three members of the Italian Wizengamot and the inventor of several potions, among several other influential people. While he would never admit it aloud (or even to himself, for that matter), he was glad that the sponsor had suggested visiting the place.

Later that evening, when Tom was satisfied that he had spoken to everyone of interest, he pulled up a seat at the bar and ordered his fourth drink of the evening. There was a map on the wall beside him and he found himself studying it while reveling in his networking prowess.

"Those are the other locations," Tom heard Raoul say as he pulled up a chair next to him at the bar. "There's one in London, though I've only been there once or twice…"

Tom made a mental note to add "Find London's Grindylow Grove" to his ever-lengthy to do list.

"Well, cheers and Happy Birthday, Tom. You have a bright future ahead of you…perhaps even more bright than you let on…"

Tom looked at him blankly, unsure of quite what he meant by it. Then:

"You're still seeing her, aren't you?" Raoul asked him suddenly.

Tom narrowed his eyes. "Who?"

"Why, Rosemary, of course! I saw her while I was at the Leaky Cauldron with Boren McFitch earlier this week…"

'_Boren McFitch my arse,' _Tom thought. _'Probably another rendezvous with your old pal Dumbledore.'_

"She looked quite nervous when she passed through, as if she was going to go meet someone…and I'm assuming that was you."

He shook his head. Tom had no idea what she was up to, nor did he particularly care.

Beaumont tossed him a skeptical, half-amused look that made his blood boil. "I don't believe for a moment that the two of you are finished. If you want to keep it from her parents, fine, but just know that I'm on to you two." He winked and before Tom could respond, he stood and walked to the end of the bar, where a circle of women were hovering.

As Raoul chatted them up, Tom found himself staring down at his glass in disbelief of what Beaumont had just suggested and remembering the day Tom was in Diagon Alley last week:

"_Jennings! Good to see you, mate," Raoul beamed as he let the trainer inside. "Did you have a Happy Christmas?"_

"_Mm," the trainer grunted in response. He was a man of remarkably few words, which was one of the primary reasons that Tom didn't mind working with him._

"_Well, I'll let you and Tom get on with it then. Do tell Liza that I said hello."_

_This comment promptly earned Raoul a scowl from Jennings and Tom bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smirking. Based on the response, he wouldn't be surprised if Beaumont had said something inappropriate to Jennings' wife at some point._

_The two of them left Raoul's house shortly after, heading into Diagon Alley to meet with Leviticus Fudge (the other Tournament competitor on Beaumont's team that Tom would be training with) for lunch and their first training session. If Tom hadn't essentially hand-picked Raoul's team himself, he might have been nervous to find out who he would be forced to work with so frequently…But this year there was no worry of being paired with a Mudblood-lover like Rookwood – Tom had weeded out every potential addition to the team that wasn't pureblood and either unmarried or married to another pureblood._

_When they arrived at The Leaky Cauldron, Tom spotted Leviticus at a booth along the wall of the pub. He shook both of their hands when they joined him, introducing himself to Tom and vice versa._

_As Tom said his name, Fudge smirked slightly and said, "I know. I was at the Tournament last year, after all…"_

_Oh, right. He _was _rather legendary._

"…_It was such awful luck, the way your duel with Daalman turned out."_

_Tom stiffened, irritated by the fact that Fudge would have the gall to mention the duel that cost him a spot in the quarter-finals. The duel that was, in fact, Rosemary's fault. If she hadn't been at the Tournament – if they didn't have to watch every single bloody step they took in fear that her parents would find out – that unfortunate reporter never would have caught him off-guard and he never would have lost focus…_

"_Just wondering," Fudge continued. "I grew up down the street from these Muggles…the Riddle's. I believe they even had a son named Tom, around my age. I only just remembered when you said your name just a moment ago. Any relation?"_

"_No," Tom said sharply. He was relieved that Beaumont wasn't there to catch him in the lie, as he was one of the very, very few who knew who Tom's father was. What Beaumont didn't know, of course, was that Tom had killed him along with his filthy Muggle grandparents two summers ago._

_He felt sick all of a sudden, knowing that the name of his pathetic, dead father would continue to follow him for the rest of his goddamn life. But he couldn't just change it so easily either, not with all the prestige he had attained for it following his numerous accomplishments…_

_As he lost himself in thought, he withdrew from Jennings' and Fudge's discussion of impressive duels at the previous year's Tournament, glancing out the window next to the booth. _

_Tom recognized her dark red hair immediately. It drew a striking contrast to her expensive-looking bright white coat, her pale skin, and the snow through which she was walking. But she wasn't walking alone – his stomach twisted uncontrollably when he saw Cramer striding along beside her. _

_But why should this come at a surprise? He was used to seeing them together all the time at Hogwarts as part of her constant charade. Though he had been suspicious from time to time that she and Warren had turned into more after their split, seeing them together told him that this just wasn't the case. He could sense her boredom by just looking at them. _

_Things hadn't changed at all. Not that he cared, of course. Tom just couldn't help but wonder if she ever grew tired of it – living that same lie every single day. In a way he rather pitied Warren – did he actually think he ever had a chance with her? When would he see that he was just wasting his time – that Rosemary was only using him and that they would never actually become more? It was all so very pathetic._

_But then Tom watched Cramer lean down and kiss her. _

_He suddenly felt as though he was watching some sort of gruesome, awful accident: he wanted to look away but couldn't and time seemed to slow to a near-standstill. Conscious, rational thought seemed to disappear from his mind, leaving only impulse. All he wanted was for it to stop._

_Tom blinked and suddenly the branch above them on a nearby tree snapped and dumped all of its snow directly onto Cramer. It took him a moment to realize that he had, in fact, caused it –now that they had stopped kissing, his mind was beginning to work again. _

_Apparently, he had been mistaken. Very mistaken._

_Apparently, Horton and Cramer were together – _actually _together_. _He told himself that it didn't matter; that he was much happier and far more productive without her. After all, there had always been the possibility in the back of his mind that this would happen (or that it had already happened without his knowledge). Even so, knowing for certain felt very differently…_

_Apparently, she had had feelings for Cramer all along, just as Tom had originally suspected. She had been lying to him the entire time which meant, of course, that everything that had ever been between them meant absolutely nothing._

_Meanwhile, Cramer had recovered and he and Rosemary were laughing happily, literally fucking frolicking in the snow. _

_He gritted his teeth. "_Whore_," he thought. _

_And that was the moment in which Rosemary Horton became dead to him. _

Tom downed the rest of his scotch and promptly ordered another, despite the fact that he was feeling a considerable buzz already. Then he stood and took his topped-off glass with him to the end of the bar where Raoul stood.

Tom would show him just how over he and Horton truly were.

It occurred to him that he had never picked up a woman in a bar before (or really anywhere, considering things with Rosemary just sort of happened), but he was far too arrogant to feel at all nervous. As he strode over to them, he made eye contact with the one he supposed he found most attractive and tossed her a small smirk. It was time to don his most charming mask.

"Raoul, won't you introduce me to your friends? No need to be a brute."

The ladies giggled and Beaumont gave him a look of half-shock, half-confusion. But he recovered quickly, listing off the four girls' names. Tom paid little attention except to the last – Regina, the one with jet-black hair to his left with whom he had made eye contact with initially.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," he said charmingly. "My name is Tom Riddle." As he said it aloud for the first time since his meeting with Leviticus Fudge, he felt an awful, almost visceral reaction. It would stop bothering him eventually, he told himself. It was just fresh in his mind, was all.

This was alleviated at least somewhat when one of them said: "_The_ Tom Riddle? From the Dueling Tournament?"

He smirked and nodded. A barrage of comments followed:

"I was a fan of yours beginning at your very first duel!"

"You're brilliant, absolutely brilliant."

"Will you sign this for me?" One of them held up a cocktail napkin.

Raoul must have been envious from all of the attention Tom was getting because he said suddenly: "Well, what can I say? I saw the potential I suppose. I mean, I had to spend my money on _someone_…"

"You're a sponsor?" The girl's eyes widened.

Suddenly the attention was shifted back to Raoul. It annoyed Tom at first, but he didn't mind so much when he felt Regina's dark brown eyes still resting on him. He only needed one of them to prove his point, after all.

He turned toward her as she was finishing her drink, which was good timing as he would have been unsure of quite what to say otherwise. "Could I get you another?" he asked.

"If you get another," she said, looking pointedly at his half-finished scotch.

"Fair enough." He smirked and downed it, though seeing as he could hardly feel his teeth it probably wasn't the best idea. "What would you like?" he asked her, while flagging over the bartender.

"Just a gin and tonic would be lovely."

He froze upon hearing this request for Rosemary Horton's go-to beverage.

A confused look spread across her face. "What?"

He realized that his reaction hadn't been purely internal and that he was looking at her in a slightly-disgusted manner. "I don't care much for gin," he said quickly before speaking briefly with the bartender to order their drinks.

She laughed. "Well it's not as though you're the one who has to drink it."

"True." He handed her the drink.

"Thank you," she smiled. "So what was being in the Tournament like? It must have been absolutely _fascinating_."

"It _was_," Tom smirked and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Why don't we take a seat over there and I'll tell you all about it." He gestured to an empty black leather loveseat against the wall.

"Sure," she smiled.

They sat and he talked. About the Tournament, mostly. He didn't ask her anything about herself primarily because he didn't care – the fact that she had gotten in to the club in the first place told him as much as he needed to know.

Tom was too drunk to know how it happened, but suddenly they were kissing and she was on his lap. The kiss felt foreign and awkward, but perhaps that was simply the way all first-kisses felt. He supposed he wasn't the best authority on the matter considering that his only prior experience had been Rosemary.

And there it was again, burned into the back of his mind: the image of Cramer and her snogging on the side of the street. Desperate prove that he no longer cared, not only to Raoul but to himself as well, he kissed the girl harder, pulling her onto his lap and drowning his thoughts in pure sensation.

"Let's go, Don Juan." Before Tom could even realize what was happening, Raoul had essentially dragged him out of The Grindylow Grove by his shirt collar.

When Tom _did_ realize what had happened, he smirked: "What's your problem? Jealous that you weren't getting any?"

"You made your point. About Rose." Beaumont glared at him. "I thought it was best that we left before things got…out of hand."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Raoul laughed. "You're completely sloshed. Someone has to save you from yourself…"

"_Save_ me from myself? Who in the hell do you think you are?" Tom spat as he turned and began to walk in the direction of the hotel.

Raoul caught up to him quickly, matching his long strides. "I don't know what's gotten into you. Sneaking out of Hogwarts, jeopardizing your Head Boy title and now _this_? It's her, it has to be. But you're far too immature to admit it."

"If you truly believe that, then you clearly don't know a goddamn thing about me. I don't need her. Or _you_, for that matter." He ducked into an empty alleyway in hopes of finding a shorter route back to the hotel. The less time he had to spend dealing with Raoul, the better.

"Oh, really?" Raoul's voice grew louder. "Have you forgotten why you're here? Have you forgotten why you have a place in the Tournament?"

"It's not as though another sponsor wouldn't have signed me," Tom sneered. "And, do you know what? I'm starting to think that a different sponsor wouldn't be such a bad idea. Might be rather nice to work with someone I could actually trust."

"Have you gone completely mental? What in the bloody hell are you even talking about?"

"Like you haven't a clue," Tom said sarcastically. Then, before he could stop himself (though he was far too past the point of soberness that would make him even remotely consider stopping himself anyway) he snapped: "Why don't you ask your old pal Dumbledore?"

Beaumont abruptly stopped in his tracks from the surprise and Tom turned to face him. "That's right; I know you weren't with your Dueling mate and his family on Christmas. You only asked me along because you knew I'd say no and you could cover your tracks. Didn't you? Anyway, it doesn't matter. I have no desire to work with anyone who has anything to do with that _old fool_." Tom was practically spitting with anger at this point.

A few seconds of silence passed, in which Raoul looked surprisingly calm. Then he finally said: "I apologize, but I had to keep you out of it…I couldn't just jeopardize the entire plan by telling you."

"What _plan_?" Tom rolled his eyes. Why should he believe anything the sponsor said?

He put his hands in his pockets. "I'm afraid that I can't reveal much, even now. Professor Dumbledore had a piece of information that I needed and the way that I went about obtaining that information was potentially…volatile. I couldn't chance you doing something stupid and getting in the way."

Tom was in no mood to decode riddles. He just wanted answers. "What information?" he demanded. "It has something to do with this MAGI business, doesn't it?"

Well, _that _certainly caught Beaumont off-guard. "Keep your voice down!" he said suddenly, looking around the deserted alley like a madman.

Tom smirked as he enjoyed the satisfying realization that he had stumbled upon something he wasn't supposed to know.

"Did Rosemary tell you?"

Then it was Tom's turn to be caught off guard. "_What_? No."

What exactly had she kept from him? Since when did she keep secrets for Raoul? But then again, she_ was_ a liar as recent events had proven. He shouldn't have been so surprised.

Raoul smiled. "I knew she wouldn't. She's far too good of a person. I still think you're an idiot, you know."

Another conversation about Rosemary with Raoul (or anyone else for that matter), was literally the last thing that he wanted. "_You _date her then." Tom snarled.

Raoul looked pensive for a moment. "You know, maybe I will…" Tom gave him a disgusted look. "I'm joking, of course." He laughed.

"Of course. I couldn't care less either way." It was becoming apparent that Raoul was merely attempting to distract him, so he pushed the conversation back into the direction of interest: "So what was the information you needed from _Dumbledore_? And what does it have to do with MAGI?" Tom couldn't even say his name without a twinge of disgust in his tone.

"It's completely irrelevant to you. The less you know, the better."

It was a statement which, predictably, only fed Tom's desire to know more. "Well, how did you get that old fool to tell you, then? Did you tell him something _he _might want to know? Perhaps how I've been getting out of the school for trainings…?" Tom glared at him threateningly.

"No, nothing like that."

"A threat, then?" Tom watched Beaumont's face carefully. "Blackmail...?" The sponsor remained expressionless, but Tom had a feeling of intuitive confidence that told him he had guessed correctly. Which was useful, as he didn't exactly trust himself to attempt Legilimency in a drunken state. "Yes…Blackmail." Tom's face twisted into a sinister smirk.

"I'm not telling you anything more," Raoul said resolutely. "Clearly I've already said more than enough."

"Well," Tom started in an equally resolute, but slightly threatening tone. "I suppose I'll just have to find out myself, then."

* * *

_ "After all, we are nothing more or less than we choose to reveal." – Beau Willimon_

* * *

Thank you to those of you who reviewed last chapter: x2leoj, A regrettable decision, RosiePosie15, and Guest! Your ongoing support is appreciated far beyond what words can express.(: A big thank you as well to all of those that have followed/favorited the story!

Oh, and just a quick note - I'm definitely planning on elaborating more about Tom's time in Rome with the Tournament organizers. This will be appearing shortly in the story, likely Chapter 56. So if you're more into Tom's backstory and not so much the romantic plot-line, stay tuned for that!(:

If you have a moment to spare, please consider leaving a review below!


	55. Part II - A Notable Irritation

A Notable Irritation

_January 5, 1945_

The ring was smaller than she expected, but Rose had to admire his taste nonetheless. The band was braided with white gold and dotted with diamonds, though the large oval-cut light pink diamond in the center was what truly caught the eye.

Faye was clearly proud of it, judging by her exaggerated, uncharacteristic hand-motions as she described Adam's proposal to her. Apparently he had got gotten down on his knee seconds before midnight on New Year's Eve at Markus' party and Faye happily accepted soon after.

"I wish you would have been there to see it." Faye's mouth transformed into a pout that Rosemary suspected was more of a courtesy than actually genuine. After all, they had barely spoken since she ended things with Tom.

"The look on her face was absolutely priceless," Rebecca giggled. "I had been helping Adam plan it over the holiday and it all worked out perfectly."

"I'm so sorry I missed it," Rose said, hoping she sounded convincingly regretful. And she _was_ sorry. Well, sort of. She of course felt guilty for missing her best friend's engagement…but then again, were they even really best friends anymore? _Rebecca_ certainly seemed to be more in the loop than she was…

In fact, when she had received Markus' invitation for his New Year's party (which she also considered to be merely a courtesy), she hadn't given it much thought before replying with an excuse of having alternate plans. Surely her presence would have been uncomfortable…_especially_ if Tom happened to be there. Plus, she would have felt obligated to invite Warren, knowing that he wanted to spend the evening together.

In the end they had a quiet evening in at his parents' house, listening to music on the carpet in front of his sitting room fireplace. They had also done a fair amount of kissing in lieu of something interesting to talk about. While this lack of conversation had concerned her at first, she supposed it was a small price to pay to be with someone who fit the bill of her parents approval, had an even temper, and wasn't occasionally terrifying.

Which reminded her: she had yet to inform Faye and the others of her blossoming relationship with Warren. It didn't help that Rosemary was inherently dreading telling them, especially Faye. After all, it was clear that she didn't approve of the fact that Rose had broken things off with Tom for some elusive reason (which came as quite a surprise, seeing that Faye had disliked them together in the first place). But it had to come out sooner or later; and she may as well get it over with early. Besides, she knew she was being ridiculous – Faye would come around, in time. She always did.

"I have some news as well." Rose smiled and pretended to look excited to tell them, even though her insides were screaming at her to lie, change the topic, do _anything_ but tell her the truth.

"Oh?"

"Warren and I…"

The compartment door suddenly flew open and Markus and Adam let themselves in, greeting their girlfriends and sliding into the seats next to them.

Once again, Rosemary couldn't help but notice their cool air toward her as they said hello. Even Markus, who had been her friend for years – hell, the _same_ friend that told her she should break up with Tom if she thought it was the right thing to do. She had no idea what was going on with them all and why the sudden shift in attitude toward her had occurred, but it was truly beginning to drive her batty.

What she _did_ know was that she certainly didn't want to tell Faye about Warren in front of Adam or Markus. Which meant that she was going to do everything in her power to change the subject:

"Well congratulations, Adam." She smiled. "You have surprisingly good taste, I have to say… the ring is lovely."

"Thanks," he said shortly.

Rosemary was surprised at his abruptness and, quite frankly, found it rather rude. The others must have noticed as well, because a rather uncomfortable silence fell upon the compartment for a few seconds.

Then, unfortunately, Faye brought up the topic she had so wanted to avoid: "So, Rose, you were going to tell us something…?"

"Oh, no…It's nothing," she said quickly.

"Something about Warren, wasn't it?"

_That_ had certainly gotten everyone's attention. Suddenly, all eyes seemed to be on her.

She sighed, knowing there wasn't a way to avoid telling them forever. "Yes…We're, erm, giving it a real go."

The announcement was met with complete silence in the compartment. But this wasn't the worst of it – she could have never prepared herself for the slight look of condescension that flashed in Faye's eyes as she said: "Oh, Rose. How sweet."

Rosemary felt angry, embarrassed, and defensive all at once and she could hear it leaking through her voice as she said: "Things have been wonderful, actually."

"That's splendid, Rose. Truly splendid." Faye smiled, her voice laced with undertones of the same condescension that had been in her eyes seconds earlier.

Since when did Faye talk down to her? Did she think that she knew more about relationships than Rose, now that she was engaged? But it wasn't just Faye acting strangely, of course…it was Adam too. And Markus. Friends that she had had for _years_ were suddenly acting cold to her. She couldn't help but wonder why – but it was clear that it had at least_ something_ to do with Tom.

It made her wonder: was it possible that Tom had spun the tale of their split to save face and make her sound like the one at fault? She didn't put it past him…he _was_ quite upset when she announced that she was ending things with him, as she could so vividly recall:

"_We're through."_

_Silence. He looked at her in what could only be described as pure shock, as though she had slapped him. Then his eyes narrowed into a sharp glare. "_What_ did you just say?"_

_She wiped the tears from her eyes, looking straight into his, repeated firmly: "We're through." _

_He suddenly looked so angry that she feared he might actually hurt her, just like he hurt Warren. In an unthinking, instinctual way to attempt to calm him, she placed a hand on his forearm._

_Tom recoiled from her immediately, looking at her in a mixture of disgust and contempt as he rose to his feet and stood above her. She could feel herself shaking in fear when his bedroom door suddenly swung open wand-lessly and he hissed through gritted teeth: "Get out." _

Judging from the exchange, the possibility of Tom being bitter with her wasn't all that unlikely in her mind. Well, bitter at first, anyway; she hadn't quite shaken the look he had given her the week prior in The Leaky Cauldron, the one that lacked any recognition or acknowledgment of her whatsoever.

Which reminded her – where was he, exactly? While she didn't necessarily mind avoiding another potentially uncomfortable encounter, it _was_ odd that she hadn't seen him, considering the fact that he seemed to be spending more time than ever with Markus and Adam (which she speculated was just to spite her). Perhaps he was just in some other part of the train with his ever-growing Slytherin posse.

And there she was, thinking of him again. It was disturbing to realize how quickly her mind would devolve to thoughts of him (even after several weeks), but she convinced herself it was purely out of habit. It would change with time, she continued to assure herself.

She hadn't missed much while losing herself in thought – after the uncomfortable silence that had followed her announcement and Faye's response, the conversation had moved on and Rosemary watched awkwardly while they essentially ignored her presence.

Then, to make matters worse, she glanced to her right to and watched in horror as Warren let himself into their compartment. Once again, all eyes were on her as he greeted her with a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Hope you don't mind if I join you," he said to the others, clearly oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm in greeting him. "Donohue, Lestrange, I just heard – congratulations!"

"Thanks Warren," Faye smiled another fake smile.

Rosemary couldn't take it anymore; the discomfort was excruciating. She turned to Warren. "Actually, I was just leaving to check on the Prefects."

"Well I suppose I'll see you all later, then." Warren gave each of them a friendly smile as Rosemary stood to leave.

"See you on the pitch," Markus said to him in a rather threatening tone, just as they were stepping out of the compartment.

As they started down the narrow aisleway of the Hogwarts Express, she realized how truly appalled she was at the people she called (or used to call) her friends. They had not only been outwardly rude to both she and Warren, but, in Markus' case, threatening as well. She could handle them treating _her_ that way to a certain extent, but Warren had done nothing but try to be friendly to them. He didn't exactly deserve to be treated the way they had acted toward him.

"I'm sorry. I don't have the slightest idea where that came from," she told him. "But Markus can be a standoffish at times."

Warren smiled and gave her an amused look. "It's just Quidditch talk, Rose."

There was a large part of her that very much doubted that. Then again, she supposed it didn't really matter so long as Warren wasn't offended. Her friends would just have to grow up and get over the idea that she wasn't with Tom any longer; clearly, they were having a problem accepting that simple fact.

When they arrived at Hogwarts and made their way into the Great Hall Rosemary was still fuming about her friends to some degree, but her attention was quickly pulled in another direction when Headmaster Dippet waved her over to the staff table.

"Evening, Professor," Rosemary greeted him.

"Good evening, Miss Horton. I trust that you're well-prepared for the Prefect winter-term meeting?"

She nodded dutifully. "I'll be giving an overview of the Head Boy and Girl application process for the Sixth Years and reviewing rules for docking house points. If I remember correctly, Riddle will be addressing the recent raids in Hogsmeade and reminding everyone of this year's new security measures."

"Ah, you see, that is exactly what I wanted to discuss with you: Mr. Riddle won't be returning to school until the end of this weekend, so you will need to cover his topics in the meeting as well."

"What?" She attempted to ask it sweetly, as though she had simply misheard him.

"Yes, it's quite extraordinary, actually. It appears that he is in Italy, meeting with various officials of the Continental Wizarding Dueling Tournament."

Well, that explained his absence on the train that afternoon…

"I apologize that I didn't inform you sooner – the meeting tonight completely skipped my mind until I received his notes in the post this morning."

Dippet reached in his robes and retrieved an envelope, which he promptly handed to Rose. She opened it and withdrew nearly fifteen pages of notes, all written neatly in Tom's cursive script. Clearly, he had planned to discuss much more than security and the Hogsmeade raids.

_Well, fuck_.

She supposed she would be spending the entirety of dinner scrambling to prepare, seeing that the Prefect meeting was scheduled just ten minutes afterward.

Her feeling of slight panic must have shown on her face because Dippet slightly raised an eyebrow at her and said: "I trust that, as Head Girl, you will have no issue running the meeting by yourself."

She could feel herself blushing in slight embarrassment. "Of course not, Sir."

He dismissed her and she made her way back to the Ravenclaw table, growing more agitated with every step. How was this fair? At _all? _Why should _she_ have to take on Tom's responsibilities so he could stay on vacation?!

The irony killed her, too – the fact that Dippet and Dumbledore were so insistent on increasingly stringent security measures, while at the same time allowing Tom to essentially go anywhere he wanted, anytime he wanted.

'_Unbelievable. He could get away with murder,'_ she thought bitterly.

Now _that_ was a chilling thought.

* * *

_January 6, 1945_

This was it: his final day in Rome. It was rather odd to think that he would be back in his dormitory at Hogwarts later that night; in fact, he had been so caught up in learning everything there was to know about the behind-the-scenes of the Tournament that he had forgotten that the rest of the school had already taken the train back.

Thankfully, he had remembered a few days prior to send Dippet his notes for the Prefect meeting. He had made sure to make them extra extensive – after all, the wizarding world was facing a crisis and it was his responsibility to make sure that the Prefects were prepared. There was also a small part of him that knew Horton would be annoyed with his thoroughness, too, which was an added perk. She had never been one for rules and she would surely loathe having to discuss so many.

For the first time in his life, he was somewhat dreading his return to Hogwarts. This was partially because he would have to deal with Horton practically every day after growing so accustomed to ignoring her existence over the holiday, but also because his trip had truly been a tremendous experience. He had gotten the opportunity to network with each of the board members and key organizers of the Tournament, after all.

It was certainly worth spending his holiday with Raoul, even if things _had _been a bit awkward since their drunken confrontation and Tom's threat to uncover his and Dumbledore's secrets. Although, considering that the only thing that had really changed was that he and Raoul were speaking less, Tom certainly didn't mind. If anything, this was a marked improvement.

His last day in Rome was spent in a banquet and reception for all of the Tournament sponsors and trainers. Like any other Tournament-related event, it was just a peg below overly extravagant. His mood in this sort of setting tended to be a bit of a dichotomy. In one sense, he enjoyed it immensely and felt entirely in his element – after all, he had spent years cultivating convincingly Pureblood mannerisms and it was in these instances that he was able to put them to practice. But then there was the other side of it that he loathed, as he knew that no one else in the room would be forcing these mannerisms in the same way. It all came naturally for the rest of them and this made him painfully hyperaware of his bastardized blood status. His only hope was that this would fade in time, as he continued to gain status in the Wizarding World.

The President of the Tournament Administrative Board, Altair Givense, stood from his place on the long table at the front of the room and cleared his throat, the crowd quickly quieting as they took notice.

"Thank you, our beloved trainers and sponsors, for joining us this afternoon. I have thoroughly enjoyed reconnecting with each of you over the last few days in preparation for this year's Continental Wizarding Dueling Tournament. I would also like to take this time to thank you for your ongoing commitment to the sport; without your extraordinary beneficence, the Tournament would simply cease to exist."

Raoul smirked and muttered under his breath: "_Extraordinary beneficence_…That's a new one."

Tom rolled his eyes, all too used to the board members showering praise upon the wealthy sponsors. He had heard it again and again at the Tournament last summer and the past week and a half in Rome. Tom understood why they did it, of course – they _did_ essentially fund the entire event – but it was certainly tiring to hear. Nor did he appreciate the constant reminder that his place in the Tournament felt a bit like charity. His pride could only take so much of a beating.

Meanwhile, Givense carried on about the various board members and their various contributions to planning the Tournament. His speech was giving evidence of coming to an end when his face suddenly turned remarkably solemn: "It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you all that if the current state of turmoil persists, we will have no choice but to cancel the Tournament in the interest of everyone's safety."

_No Tournament?_

There was a concerned murmur across the crowd of trainers and sponsors and Tom felt his stomach drop in dread instantly. Givense raised his hands and spoke over the crowd, raising his voice slightly: "There is absolutely no evidence to suggest that this will actually happen. We are merely addressing every possibility in preparation. Let us not forget that the Wizarding World has faced and triumphed over similar terrors in the past." The crowd of sponsors and trainers quieted a bit and Givense's face relaxed considerably. "Now, then…let's eat."

Food appeared instantly at each of the tables, though everyone seemed a bit hesitant to eat. Tom suspected that this had far more to do with the shock of the news that had just been delivered than the quality of the food itself, though some were certainly not bashful:

"Don't mind if I do," Raoul said amusedly, reaching across the table as though he had entirely missed the announcement. Surprisingly, it appeared that this effort to diffuse the group's tension had actually worked: the rest of the table (including Tom even though he had all but completely lost his appetite) followed Beaumont's example. As a bit of small talk began to sprout around the table, it seemed as though everyone was attempting to ignore the topic at the forefront of their minds. This didn't last for long, however.

"Well, this will certainly take some mulling over," grumbled the sponsor on Raoul's right as he buttered a piece of bread. "Of course, they had to wait until the _end_ of the conference to announce it…"

Raoul waved his hand nonchalantly. "Don't be so dramatic, Rosney. There's months until the Tournament begins; the Ministry will surely have everything under control by then."

"Have you seen the papers lately? We're losing, and quite badly I might add. Their forces are far more organized compared to the Ministry, especially after the budget cuts to the Auror Department two years ago…Not to mention the fact that there has been next to no international collaboration whatsoever."

"They won't cancel it," Raoul assured him once more, though he sounded slightly less certain this time.

"Well I suppose I fail to see the point in taking that chance." Rosney lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair. "You know we won't be reimbursed for the registration fees, the trainings…I'm not sure about you, but that seems like a particularly dangerous investment to me."

Listening to this conversation unfold did little in the way of calming Tom's nerves. He desperately wanted Rosney to stop talking, to stop putting these doubts in Raoul's head. Even if the Tournament _didn't _get cancelled, there would be a chance that he couldn't compete. If Beaumont decided to drop the team's contracts, Tom would have no choice but to drop out of the Tournament – though some contestants registered without a sponsor, the cost of doing so was astronomical and far outside his meager savings.

But he did have one leverage point: Raoul's secret. While he wasn't sure what _exactly_ it was, he had a few theories. He would have to do some digging when he returned to Hogwarts, but if/when he figured it out, he was fairly certain he could sufficiently pressure Beaumont to keep his money in the Tournament. This would at least buy him time while he worked out the details of his strategy to take down (or at the very least weaken) Grindelwald's forces.

While he was well on his way of forming a loyal group to carry out these plans, things were clearly not moving quickly enough. The group's dueling capabilities had improved thanks to his tutoring, but were still relatively lacking overall. More importantly, it was proving quite difficult to foster an interest in anything even remotely political in their dull minds.

But he _had _to.

* * *

"_Schemes are like fruit, they require a certain ripening." ― George R.R. Martin_

* * *

**Sorry for another late update. On the bright side, my midterms are finally over and I have powered through some MAJOR writer's block.(:**

**In the last week or so I've reworked a lot of Part II, so that's taken up a lot of my time that I normally would have spent writing. The most important thing to come of this is that I'm bringing Tom and Rose back to Hogwarts far sooner and in the next chapter they are going to have their first real interaction of Part II! :D Soo everything is going to be shifted up a bit compared to my original plans.**

**I want to give a very special shout-out to a new reader, gr8rockstarrox: THANK YOU SO MUCH for reviewing all the chapters you've read so far! We are now over 300 reviews, which makes me soooo incredibly happy! A huge thank you to all of you that have submitted reviews on previous chapters over these past several months and those that reviewed last chapter: Guest, Guest, Oksanallex, A regrettable decision, RosiePosie15, Mrs. TomMarvoloRiddle, Guest, and Queentakesjack . :D **


	56. Part II - The Knights of Walpurgis

The Knights of Walpurgis

_January 6, 1945_

"I believe we have reached the point in which we should develop a name for ourselves as a whole, as well as individual names. This will permit us to maintain anonymity as we move forward with our more…_complex_ plans."

Tom stood in the middle of Markus and Adam's dormitory with about fifteen of his fellow Slytherin boys seated in front of him. He was exhausted from his day of travel, but there wasn't a single day that he could afford to waste at this point, given his new-found urgency to at the very least subdue Grindelwald's bolstering control.

"What sort of plans, Riddle? Are we going to make more mudbloods cry – like Tresden and Drummond?" a fourth year, Jason Mulciber, asked with a twisted smile.

Tom smirked, pleased with his enthusiasm. "Of course…and much more, as well. We'll move on to planning shortly, but first things first: a name. Ideas, anyone?"

Silence. Tom crossed his arms and looked at them impatiently. When he was met with more silence, he sighed: "Let's think it over for a few minutes. In the meantime, come up with the name you'd like the rest of the group to refer to you as."

"Just call me 'Ladies' Man'," Markus smirked and elbowed Abraxas Malfoy in the ribs, who promptly rolled his eyes. Normally, he would have just ignored Markus' inane comments, but suddenly the majority of the room had joined in, coming up with equally-idiotic names for themselves.

Tom glared at him and said just loudly enough for everyone to hear: "If you don't plan to take this seriously, _Avery_, do us all a favor and see yourself out."

The room quieted instantly. Abraxas smirked and so did Markus, at least at first. "This is _my_ dormitory." Tom's glare intensified and Markus suddenly seemed to remember who exactly he was talking to, as the smirk fell from his face and he added: "…but yes, of course I'm taking it seriously."

"Good. Now, I'll be passing around a sheet of parchment – please write your name and your chosen alias next to it. I expect you to have everyone's name memorized by the time of our next meeting."

He waited patiently as the list was passed around the room, the group whispering back and forth about potential ideas. Meanwhile, Dolohov rose from where he was seated on the floor between Nott and Malfoy, and crossed the room to approach Tom. "I might have a name for the group," he said quietly. "Unless you have one in mind, of course."

"Not necessarily," Tom told him. He had a few ideas, but none of which he was particularly attached to. "What is it?"

"Well, there's this legend I remember reading about in History of Magic and it referred to a gathering: the Walpurgis Night."

"Yes, I've heard of it," Tom said impatiently. After all, he had received the top grade in History of Magic each year he took it _by_ _far_.

"Then what about the Knights of Walpurgis?" Dolohov looked at him nervously, as though Tom might hex him for simply having a bad idea. Which, on a bad day, was perhaps not far from the truth.

But as he considered Dolohov's suggestion, he decided he rather liked it. "Sure," he nodded in approval, before turning to the others. "Any objections to the Knights of Walpurgis as a name for ourselves?" he asked them.

Dolohov smiled in satisfaction as they were met with silence.

"And has everyone finished deciding on an individual name?"

There was some nodding and Lestrange handed him the list of parchment, which Tom quickly scanned to ensure that no one had missed it. "Excellent. I will keep this list for one week before burning it so you can consult it and memorize the other's names. From this moment forward, you are not to use anyone's given name while discussing anything even remotely related to the Knights of Walpurgis. Understood?"

They nodded dutifully.

"And what do we call you, Riddle?" asked Eric Rosier.

A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, as he recalled the discovery of his diary's secrets several months prior. "Voldemort."

He was rather pleased with their reactions, some of them looking quite impressed and perhaps wishing they could change their names to something a bit more creative. But there was little time and a lot left to cover that evening.

"So as I mentioned earlier, I have plenty of ideas targeting the school's illegitimate students. But right now I want to focus your attention on something a bit more broad – a way that we can bring the influence of the Knights of Walpurgis beyond the walls of Hogwarts." The group looked sufficiently interested, so he continued: "You see we must begin to target Grindelwald if our efforts within Hogwarts are ever to make an impact. If he gets his way and interacting with muggles becomes part of daily life – even _controlling_ them – there will be far more concerning issues than mudbloods, as much of a pollution to the wizarding world as they are." He watched, slightly panicking internally, as their attention began to drift away from him.

Their sudden lack of zeal was discouraging. Of course, he could always threaten them into following his orders, but that simply wasn't enough past a certain point. Truly leading them and manipulating them to do his bidding while they remained unaware that they were being manipulated would require that they felt an _allegiance _toward him and his cause, not something as simple and one-dimensional as fear.

But how to do that? This was, of course, far easier said than done.

It was clear that things had gone astray the moment that he had mentioned Grindelwald. Perhaps it was too beyond them to consider that their efforts could have an impact outside of Hogwarts. Or maybe they were just so absorbed in the protective bubble of their pureblood lives to really give a damn about anything remotely political, a luxury that Tom was unspeakably envious of.

Suddenly, he had an epiphany: what if the problem was that he had never truly acted as an equal to them? After all, up to this point, he had simply been giving orders. What if he could change the dynamic to make decisions seem like more of a group effort while he remained in imperceptible control of each outcome? What if he found a way to make them relate to his views and gain that sense of allegiance? This, he concluded, would be the ultimate form of manipulation. However, there was a price to pay: he would have to play the part of an equal to them (or at least more of an equal than at the present moment). If this plan actually worked, though, it would be worth it. He would be unstoppable.

"I think I'll leave you with that thought tonight," he told them suddenly. "We can resume this discussion next weekend and perhaps determine what our course of action both inside _and_ outside of Hogwarts will be."

All of a sudden, he could hear the muffled sound of music as it began to play and the jumble of conversations growing louder in an attempt to talk over it. "Avery, Lestrange – aren't Donohue and Orion hosting some sort of gathering this evening, just downstairs in the common room?"

Adam nodded somewhat nervously. "Faye thought it would be a good idea to have one last holiday party before classes begin again."

"It sounds as though it's started…Perhaps we should go and join them?"

There had already been a few surprised faces among the group due to Tom's abrupt ending of the meeting, but this suggestion extended this look of pure shock to the others as well.

'_Yes, I can pretend to enjoy parties just as much as each of you dunderheads does.' _Internally, he rolled his eyes at them.

With that, he opened the door of the dormitory and led them downstairs, their curious stares following every step that he took as though his willing participation in their gathering was just too good to be true.

In lieu of his beloved scotch, Tom opted for Firewhiskey – though he immediately regretted it as he tossed it back and felt the burn spread from his lips to the back of his throat.

At least he wasn't alone in his displeasure: Markus, Adam, and Rebecca all made half-disgusted faces as they stood in a circle and took their shots. Meanwhile, Faye burst out in laughter. "What pansies you all are! Come now, it's time to redeem yourselves – let's do another!"

By the time they were on the fourth, it hardly burned at all. Another fortunate effect was that he could now more easily talk to the others – in fact, for one of the first times in his Hogwarts career, he was actually _socializing. _Even better, his plan seemed to be working; slowly, the Knights of Walpurgis began to seem a bit more comfortable around him as he traveled around the room and conversed with each of them one at a time. He could still detect an air of caution toward him, but he wasn't looking to completely eliminate this entirely anyway. After all, he still had to be their leader even if they saw him as a bit more of an equal.

Like making small talk with his Slytherin inferiors and taking multiple shots of Firewhiskey, playing 'Spin the Wand' was another thing that Tom had never anticipated doing. That evening was full of firsts.

He had gotten sucked into the game by a group of six or seven of his Knights, far too wrapped up in his all-consuming goal of winning their allegiance as quickly as possible (as well as far too drunk) to retain any of his typical sensibility.

After Sylvia Goyle and Alphard Black emerged from the common room's coat room after their designated five minutes of who-knows-what, it was his turn. He couldn't help but notice the hopeful looks on the faces of each girl around the circle as he set the wand in the center into motion, as well as the way they quickly turned crestfallen as the wand slowed and inched past them, one by one. Until, finally, it stopped in the direction of Gwen Carrow.

Her eyes lit up gleefully and each of her friends looked at her in envious rage as she led the way to the broom closet. It wasn't until they were there, alone, that he actually realized what was supposed to happen next. He was hit with a sudden disorienting feeling that completely threw him: what exactly was he doing? And what would it achieve? Was it worth the hurricane of female attention that this one instance would likely inspire? He didn't want anything to do with Gwen Carrow (or really any girl at Hogwarts), let alone _kiss_ her.

But if he didn't, he would surely lose face and he could hardly afford such a setback given his urgency to win the unyielding respect of them all. Plus, the truth of the matter was that flaunting his ability to make any girl at Hogwarts swoon was likely the fastest way to accomplish this.

Tom could feel her lips shaking with nerves as he kissed her, though she relaxed into his kiss quickly – perhaps a bit _too_ quickly. He was sure that a minute hadn't even passed when she reached up and began unbuttoning her own shirt. When she finished, she reached down to grab his hands (which were still resting innocently at his sides), and pressed them against her nearly bare chest. She kissed him harder and touched his chest, neck and hair, while he stood there, completely frozen.

Wasn't he supposed to be enjoying this? He did have his hands on a half-naked girl, after all. But all he felt was queasy, which reminded him a bit of what it was like snogging the girl (whose name he completely failed to remember) at The Grindylow Grove. He told himself that it must be the alcohol – after all, he had drunk a substantial amount on that night as well as the night of his birthday.

But if that was the case, why did his mind keep creeping back to Horton and how much warmer and softer her skin was compared to Carrow's? He knew that such a thought was completely illogical, of course. For one, skin was skin. And two: he quite possibly hated (or at least intensely disliked) Rosemary Horton.

Unfortunately, this didn't stop this irrational tidbit from pestering him, as though he lacked any sort of control over his own mind. And this made him angry. _Very_ angry.

"Ouch!" squeaked Carrow.

Tom's eyes snapped open and he looked down at his hands to see that they had moved to her arms and were gripping her quite tightly. He released her, muttering a quick "Sorry."

She seemed to recover rapidly from any sort of shock she had initially experienced, as she smirked and said "Actually, I sort of liked it." Then she giggled and bit her bottom lip in a sloppy, drunken way.

Tom managed to keep himself from rolling his eyes at her, though this was quite a feat in itself as it was all too obvious that she was merely trying to impress him. He didn't even need Legilimency to know that.

Carrow kissed him again, though this time on his neck and even more forcefully, and began running her hands down his chest toward his pants. Hit with that same, nauseous feeling, he was about to grab her wrists and stop her when a knock at the door marked five minutes and saved him.

She hovered near him the rest of the night, as though she expected him to suddenly turn and begin snogging her again. But he didn't. He wanted her to go away more than anything, not only because her presence was annoying but also because it kept reminding him of the way his mind kept wandering off to Horton.

It was beginning to drive him crazy, especially considering the fact that there was no way he could rationalize his way out of it – it was purely irrational. And so, his second goal for the evening became to drown out every whisper of her name, every glimpse of her face and naked body from his memory, one drink at a time.

* * *

When he awoke the next morning, he was met with both sheer disorientation and a splitting headache. Apparently he had ended up back in his own dormitory, though the means by which this had been achieved completely eluded him – in fact, he couldn't remember much at all from the night before.

Tom glanced at the clock on the wall opposite him and groaned as he realized his morning meeting was in just under a half hour. Oh, and it wasn't just _any_ meeting: both Horton_ and _Dumbledore would be there. That alone was reason enough for a headache.

He dragged himself out of bed, feeling as though he had been trampled by a herd of centaurs, and slipped into the small lavatory attached to his room. After splashing his face in the coldest water the faucet would allow, he chanced a look in the mirror. Thankfully, he only looked half as dead as he felt.

A small, oval-shaped spot just below his jaw on the right side of his neck caught his eye. He didn't have the first clue what it was initially, but as he leaned closer to the mirror to examine it and saw the slightly curved line of small teeth marks he recoiled from the mirror in disgust.

_Fucking Carrow...now what?_

He scowled and then cursed himself for never bothering to learn the simple spells that would get rid of this sort of thing. But he was clever, right? Surely he could figure out how to get rid of it all on his own…

Fifteen minutes and ten failed attempts later, he was running out of time. In the end, Tom made a snap decision to go with a simple, at least moderately concealing wound charm. The mark was still noticeable, but there was at least a chance that it could be mistaken for something other than what it truly was.

Despite his late start, Tom ended up arriving before Horton for their meeting. As the minutes ticked by, he could feel dread billowing inside of him. He finally felt as though he had cleansed his mind of the poisonous thoughts of her, at least temporarily, thanks to his excessive Firewhiskey consumption. Or maybe he just felt far too ill to think about anything other than feeling ill. Either way, there was a part of him that worried it all might have been in vain when he saw her that morning. What if the irrational thoughts began again and he couldn't stop them?

No, he told himself. He would _not_ allow it. She was pathetic and dishonest - she didn't deserve even a sliver of space in his mind. He disliked her immensely – no, he _loathed_ her. That was the truth. He concluded that the only reason he had even thought of her in the first place was merely out of habit and that perhaps some small part of his mind was simply lagging behind the rest as he adopted his new self: the one that would abandon the foolish part of him that had seen her for anything other than what she truly was.

Despite his impatience to rid her from his mind completely, he knew it would just take time and while he waited, he would just have to continue reminding himself of all the reasons he loathed her and interact with her as little as humanly possible.

* * *

_"He'd pushed it back, where he'd kept the thought for weeks, but it wouldn't stay. Wouldn't stop. Wouldn't let him go." - Veronica Rossi_

* * *

Tom was already there waiting for her when she arrived at their designated meeting room, adjacent to the library. His head was bent over a piece of parchment, likely his notes for the meeting, and didn't bother to raise it to greet her.

"Horton," he greeted her in an exceptionally monotone voice.

It certainly didn't improve her ill mood. "Riddle," she attempted to echo back in that same, blank tone – though hers was inevitably tainted with a trace of disdain.

He appeared not to notice, as his eyes had yet to leave his notes.

'_How incredibly rude_,' she thought. While she didn't exactly expect to be friends after breaking things off with him, she certainly didn't anticipate him treating her like dirt. _Especially_ after she had done him a favor by covering his duties – not that she really had a choice in the matter anyway.

_Well, two can play at that game._

As she pulled out the chair across from him she purposefully dragged it across the stone floor, causing it to emit three seconds worth of painful squeals. Even then, he _still _refused to look up at her. Now there was no doubt in her mind that this was all just to spite her.

But finally, he at least said something: "How did the meeting go?"

"Oh, quite well," she said nonchalantly, knowing full well that she wanted to report that things had been entirely chaotic without his presence. She should have stopped there, but she couldn't help herself: "Your notes were a bit incomplete to be perfectly honest, but don't worry. I filled in the blanks."

_That_ certainly got his attention. "_What blanks_?" His head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes at her.

It was so typical of him to take such great offense at any mention of deficiency in his work. She felt like smirking at him, but forced herself to remain as professional as possible. Although, it seemed that the slightly snarky (if not entirely passive aggressive) edge to her tone simply couldn't be helped: "Oh, just here and there. There's no need to worry – I took care of it all. I'm sure you were just too distracted by your trip to be thinking about such things." She smiled sweetly at him and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

He just looked at her for a few moments and though he was surely trying in desperation to hide it, she knew him well enough to predict that he was fuming internally – which, of course, provided a great deal of satisfaction on her part.

But then, he sat back in his chair, crossed his arms, and looked her dead in the eye while a nearly imperceptible smirk appeared on his face. "You didn't answer my question, Horton: _what_ blanks?"

Her heart started pounding in her chest and any satisfaction she had drawn from the past minute or so scattered away in milliseconds: he was calling her bluff. Suddenly she felt very, very foolish. Why had she even _tried_ to trick him? It was obvious that he could see right through her – _literally_ right through her, if she considered his Legilimency abilities.

Apparently, she kept forgetting that she wasn't dealing with a normal wizard her age. After all, she had thought that _she_ was quite extraordinary – so what did that make him? It was difficult to reconcile that Legilimency was even a possibility for him (or anyone, for that matter) at this stage, given that it was typically a skill that took a lifetime to master.

Rose knew she had to lie anyway, though, in the off chance that he wasn't actually reading her thoughts. "Well for one, they're pushing curfew to a half hour earlier…again." At least this was a plausible lie, considering that every monthly meeting with the Heads of Houses and Headmaster Dippet had resulted in some change to the curfew.

She was preparing herself for the worst when, miraculously, he took the bait. "To _eight_ _thirty_?" he asked incredulously, surely thinking of the implications for Dueling Club, which typically ran from eight until nine. As the knots in her stomach slowly began to unwind, it took nearly everything in her power to prevent a triumphant smile from showing through on her face.

"I thought it was quite unreasonably early as well." she said. Then, to cover her bases, she added with a shrug: "Who knows? Perhaps they will change their minds again this morning."

Moments later, Headmaster Dippet and Professors Thurston, Beery, Slughorn, and Dumbledore stepped through the meeting room door. As soon as the pleasantries regarding the holiday (which, of course, included Tom's irritatingly impressive recount of his trip) were out of the way, they got straight to business:

"Thank you again, Ms. Horton, for leading the Prefect meeting on Friday evening," Dippet tipped his head gently to her in acknowledgement. "I am aware that there was quite a bit to cover, given the increased safety precautions."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "Indeed. You have both shown extraordinary leadership in adopting the new regulations. I am afraid that we are not through with asking so much of you, however, as I must also announce that we have agreed to restrict curfew an additional half-hour."

It would have been better if Dumbledore had phrased this in a way to make it sound as though she wasn't hearing it for the first time, but she had gotten lucky: _incredibly_ lucky.

And, apparently, so had Tom: as he turned his head to begin the inevitable debate with Professor Dumbledore about the stricter curfew rule, she noticed the small, red mark just on the side of his neck.

She told herself it could be something else, _anything_ else, but she knew somehow that this wasn't the case. Of course, this meant that she had been right about the look Tom had given her at The Leaky Cauldron over the holiday – he was completely over her.

Rose was suddenly boiling. If that was the case, if he had moved on and was messing around with some other girl, then _fine_! She didn't care in the slightest – in fact she was _glad_ about it, she thought defiantly. After all, she had Warren; the last thing she needed to worry about was Tom messing that up for her somehow because he was jealous. Now she could rest assured that things would be _much_ simpler between the two of them.

* * *

**I finally managed an on-time update. Yessss! :D Thank you all for your patience while I adjusted into the school year...hopefully I can keep on track at this point (and maybe even make up for lost time).**

**I know Tom's part was longer than Rosemary's, but there was a lot to cover and I wanted to make up for him having a relatively shorter part last chapter. Also, I know the interaction between Tom and Rose was short, but there is _plenty _more to come. Don't you worry.(; I hope you enjoyed it regardless!**

**Thank you to Oksanallex, Khaaotic, Lady Ravanna, RosiePosie15, Guest, and gr8rockstarrox for your reviews!(:**


	57. Part II - Awaited Answers

Awaited Answers

_January 18, 1945_

When she arrived at Transfigurations that morning, most of the class was waiting in the hall for the fifth year class before them to finish. Rosemary spotted Faye easily in the small crowd and watched as she chatted amicably with Markus, Adam, and Becca.

Rose leaned back against the wall and waited for Warren to show up, painfully self-conscious and fully aware that she probably looked like a complete outcast to her classmates. She was so sick of feeling that she no longer belonged anywhere. But what was she waiting for? Clearly, it wasn't getting any better on its own.

With a sudden wave of courage, she strode over to the circle of her oldest friends and tapped Faye on the shoulder. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

There was an odd look on Faye's face as she turned around as well as a bit of uncomfortable eye contact that Rosemary caught between she and Adam.

Just then the classroom door opened and the fifth years began pouring out. "It looks like we're just about to go in. Maybe another time?" She tossed Rose a fake smile.

"O-_kay_," Rose said with sassy impatience. "Later today?"

Faye picked up her schoolbag and put it over her shoulder. "Sorry, I'm busy." Her voice was ice.

She and the others walked past Rosemary and into the classroom without another word. Rose could feel the heat rising to her face in anger and suddenly all she wanted to do was grab Faye by the shoulders, spin her around, and yell in her face to stop being such a bitch. Thankfully, she refrained. It was a small but notable victory.

Faye's standoffish response played over and over in Rosemary's head as she took a seat in the middle of the class and waited for the rest of the Ravenclaws and Slytherins to trickle in. She found herself wanting to cry, but there was absolutely no way that she would allow herself to do so in front of everyone else…that was the_ last_ thing she needed.

Warren and a few of his close mates came in at the last minute and filled in the chairs around her, while Professor Gunnilda Dumbledore cleared her throat to quiet the classroom. "Good morning, class."

"Good morning," they repeated back to her, half-groggily.

"Before we move on to discuss your assigned readings from this past weekend, I'm pleased to inform you that those sent to the infirmary on Saturday night have made a full recovery."

Rosemary let out a small sigh of relief at the news, feeling at least a bit of guilt lift from her shoulders. Apparently, sales of ECB were skyrocketing among Hogwarts students – it was the latest and greatest drug that they all wanted to get their hands on. It had extended past the Slytherins and on to the Hufflepuffs…now there were even some Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students using it. While Rosemary wasn't one to disapprove of a bit of partying here and there, it appeared that the drug had a barrage of nasty side effects if taken in excess. Several students the over past couple of weekends had discovered this the hard way. Some of the symptoms were mild, though potentially quite embarrassing nonetheless – a few cases involved the involuntary spewing of exceptionally crude insults at everyone they came into contact with, which had been quite a surprise to a few professors. Others were apparently quite painful and a number of students were found screaming, insisting that their heads had caught fire.

With all this going on, she couldn't help but wonder: could she have prevented all of these admissions by taking Jasper up on his offer? It had weighed heavily on her, particularly because of her unyielding desire to be a Healer. As Head Girl, how could she just stand by and let her students get hurt?

Of course, she also knew she should report Markus – but she _couldn't_. Not when she was in such a rocky place with all of her friends already; what hope of reconciliation would there be if she turned him in? Besides, wasn't Jasper right? Wouldn't the students who wanted the drug just find a way to make it themselves? A way that might be even _more _dangerous?

While it was a relief to hear that this round of students had recovered, she knew it would only be a matter of time until there were further admissions. The decision to stay out of things or get involved was overwhelmingly conflicting.

She was distracted from her thoughts as she saw her Premium Mind-Reading Quill rise and begin writing at the top of her notebook page. Rosemary frowned at it, suspecting that she must have bought another defective one from Scribbulus in Diagon Alley. Her last one had been a bit too in tune with her thoughts as well, and had taken the habit of copying down thoughts far too intimate for parchment without her command. It was just her luck to get two with the same exact problem in a row. Then again, she supposed she _did_ remember hearing her father say that their quality had slipped quite a bit over the past few years…

Or perhaps she had been mistaken – her parchment read:

_My dormitory. 6 p.m._

_\- F_

* * *

When Rosemary finally knocked on the door to Faye's dormitory that evening, she was somewhat apprehensive of the prospect that Emily or Loretta might be inside, as she hadn't spoken to either of them since Emily's outburst regarding Rosemary's relationship with Warren earlier that year.

Thankfully, she was spared of this potentially awkward encounter; they were nowhere to be seen as Faye opened the door and stepped aside to let Rose in. Faye sat on her bed and Rosemary sat on the nearby windowsill – the same one that had been the venue for countless hours of heart-to-hearts, gossip, and spilled secrets between them over the years. It all seemed so long ago.

"So, what would you like to talk about?" Faye asked coolly, as though nothing at all had been off between them over the last several weeks.

There was no reason to beat around the bush; Rosemary was absolutely sick of the way things had been: "You've been acting distant toward me – you all have. I don't know what I did or why you're mad at me, but ever since I ended things with Tom it's like none of you want anything to do with me whatsoever." She felt herself growing a tad hysterical. "I mean, what the fucking hell happened, Faye? We've been friends for years and you just turn on me for no particular reason? Without any sort of attempt at an explanation?"

Faye suddenly looked very sad and her eyes dropped from Rose's face to the floor. "It's for your own good, Rose. I didn't want to be standoffish, but I was hoping you'd take the hint…"

"My own good? Don't you realize how fucking _miserable_ I've been? Warren is the only person I even interact with on a normal basis at this point."

"You really don't know him at all, do you?"

"Warren?"

She shook her head. "Tom."

"What about him?" Rose was suddenly getting a _very _bad feeling about things; something told her that she was _not_ going to like whatever Faye was going to tell her...

"Let's just say that I think it is extremely fortunate that he doesn't know you talked to Markus before ending things. For Markus' sake."

"Was he _that_ angry afterward?" Rosemary knew he was furious at the time when she first told him, but by the time she saw him next he showed no evidence of ever having a history with her.

"I can only imagine," Faye snorted and crossed her arms. "It was made quite apparent to me that anyone that could even potentially come between the two of you was someone that needed to be, well, silenced."

It took Rosemary a bit to process these words, but when she finally did, everything began to click. Was this why there had been such a sudden, seemingly random shift in Faye's approval toward her relationship with Tom (and him, in general)? She crossed the room and sat next to Faye on her bed. "Faye…did he _threaten_ you?"

She was quiet for a long time, during which Rosemary's stomach dropped repeatedly as she knew that the blonde witch's silence could only mean that she had guessed correctly. Then: "Well, not _me_, technically…But perhaps Adam if I didn't stay out of his way and keep my nose out of things."

"_What?_" Rosemary felt dizzy. "When did this happen?!"

"Quite a while ago…At the end of last year, around the time your parents found out that he was a half blood. I suppose he saw me as a threat, like maybe I was trying to talk you out of being with him or something."

Up until this moment, she had thought that the shift in Tom's demeanor was relatively recent and primarily due to his jealousy over Rose's involving Warren, not to mention the constant stress of her parents potentially discovering it. But no – now she knew that he had been this way for quite some time…_months _prior. And she had been completely blind to it. Who else had he threatened to ensure that he got his way when it came to her? It was far too terrifying to even speculate.

She might have felt like crying if she wasn't so busy being completely stunned. "Is he completely mad?"

Faye gave her a resigned, blank look. "Maybe. All I know is that he _really_ loved you." Rosemary shook her head in disbelief. "Anyway, I don't know if you've noticed, but he's gotten far more intense these past few weeks. So, as awful as it is, we have to stay away from you, Rosie. He basically _owns_ Slytherin house and anyone would be an idiot to cross him…"

The picture of her friends' sudden departure was quickly falling into place. "I know he's been behind all the anti-mudblood efforts," Rose said. "You are all part of that, aren't you?" She had been suspicious of this from the beginning, considering that Markus and Adam were two of his closest housemates.

Faye looked at her, eyes wide and completely dumbfounded: "You know he's leading it? How?"

Rosemary shrugged. "It was a hunch. He's probably the most blood elitist person I've ever met…although not many people outside of Slytherin know that of course. Especially not the staff."

"It's all a bit ironic if you ask me," Faye sighed. "Although, as we've discussed before, he's basically pureblood…plus, Adam and Markus revere him completely and I'm certainly not looking to get in the way of anything." Then her expression turned increasingly serious and she placed a hand on Rose's shoulder. "More importantly, _you_ need to make sure you're not getting in the way of anything. We've been so distant not only to protect ourselves, but also to keep Tom from suspecting that you know about his involvement. Which you _do_, so now we'll have to be even more careful."

Rosemary attempted to sound casual and unfazed: "I doubt that he would _actually_ do anything if he knew that I knew."

Faye raised an eyebrow at her. "Considering the fact that you're Head Girl and you technically have an obligation to inform the faculty about what he's doing, I find that highly unlikely. He has absolutely no reason to trust you. I have to believe you've thought this through, Rose. Otherwise, I'm sure you would have reported him already."

She was right – Rosemary _had_ thought it through and her– apparently quite justified– fear of him and lack of any sort of actual evidence regarding his involvement had sufficiently deterred her. Even so, it obviously had not occurred to her that her friends might feel threatened by him as well and, regardless of all the things she had learned about him as of late, it had still come as a shock.

As much as she missed spending time with her friends, she couldn't exactly expect them to put themselves in potential danger just to speak to her. After all, wasn't it her fault that he had gone a bit off the rails to begin with? Surely he wouldn't be spending so much time and energy with these anti-muggle efforts if they were still together. She had brought all of this on herself and she would have to pay the price as a result.

"Hopefully this is a short-lived situation," Faye said. "I'm sure things will improve when he fully moves on from you. In fact, this might not be as far off as you think – he's been far less high strung lately and, dare I say, rather _fun_?"

_That _was something Rosemary had never expected to come out of Faye's mouth, as the entire reason that she didn't like Tom to begin with was that he rarely let loose or participated in their past shenanigans.

Faye smirked at Rosemary's look of pure surprise. "It was certainly unexpected when he suddenly began attending our parties just a couple of weeks ago. We've had a few since then – which have been _quite_ _something_, I might add – and he's been at every single one…

By 'quite something', she was sure that Faye was referring to ECB and she couldn't help but wonder if Faye knew of Markus', or worse, Jasper's involvement. Though Rosemary would never dare to ask, of course.

"…Not only that, he's also snogged a number of the Slytherin girls. There was Gwen Carrow the weekend we came back from the holiday…"

So that was where the mark came from – the mark that she absolutely did _not_ care about. Nor did she care to hear _who _he was kissing, or the fact that he was at all for that matter. Whether or not he was kissing Slytherin slags was his business. Rosemary put her hand up to stop Faye from continuing. "Let's just hope that things can return to normal soon enough."

* * *

He was well on his way to building what was essentially shaping up to be an empire at Hogwarts – that much was clear. His efforts to "relate" to his future pawns by showcasing a friendly façade had actually paid off quite well and rather quickly: it seemed as though wherever he went, at least one of them was there, just waiting for him to request something of them, even trivial things that he could just as easily do himself.

It was as though they thought some of his charm or girl-wooing abilities would simply rub off on them the more time they spent with him. Tom supposed he didn't mind their presence – the fact that they were following his orders was the only thing he actually cared about.

Even better, a select few had impressed him by warming up quickly to his eventual plans involving Grindelwald. These had become his most trusted Knights, his emerging inner circle: Lestrange, Rosier, Malfoy, Dolohov, and Mulciber. Avery would have made the cut as well, if he had not been so preoccupied in his attempts to get everyone at Hogwarts high. His close friendship with Horton certainly didn't help matters, either.

"Here are all the papers from 1920-1925…" Mulciber set down the tall stack of newspapers in front of Tom.

Rosier followed close behind him. "And here is the next five years' worth."

Tom nodded at them without glancing up from his April, 1936 monthly edition of _The Daily Prophet_.

"Should we start in on the next decade back?" Rosier asked.

He pretended he didn't hear the slight trace of apprehension in Eric's voice as he nodded again, folding up the paper and setting it aside before picking up the next in the pile. It was then that Tom felt Malfoy's eyes on him.

"Is there a problem?" he looked to his left at Abraxas, who was sitting beside him at the large, round table amongst the stacks and stacks of newspapers

"No," he said quickly. Then, hesitantly: "Sorry, I'm just wondering…what does MAGI have to do with Grindelwald?" Thankfully, Tom had booked an eavesdrop-proof study room for that evening's very task so there was no need for them to worry about speaking freely.

As he considered how he might respond to Malfoy's question, Tom supposed he could afford to be generous enough to expend a shred of patience, considering Malfoy had been helping him search through the papers for hours already – and they still had _quite _a ways to go. "It's a bit of a theory I have," Tom lied. "I'll explain later." In reality, it was just the first excuse that he had come up with to get them to help him in his search for any trace of a connection between MAGI and Beaumont or Dumbledore.

Fortunately, the answer seemed to suffice and Malfoy turned back to his reading.

Over the past two or three hours (or four? – he had been reading so long he really had no concept of time any longer), Tom had learned a considerable amount about MAGI: certainly enough for it to be baffling to him that he hadn't heard of it until quite recently. As over half the articles he had found were praises of the company's generous philosophy evidenced by donation after donation to various organizations, he was certain that it was one of the wealthiest (if not the single most wealthy) companies in Britain.

"Riddle, isn't this your Tournament sponsor?" Malfoy turned the newspaper toward him.

_Raoul Beaumont, Head of Regulatory Affairs and Product Safety at MAGI, Resigns Citing Health Reasons_

Tom's eyes lit up as he took the page from Malfoy's hands and studied it carefully. "Why yes, Abraxas. Yes it is."

The article itself contained very little of significance, but the title alone at least gave him a place to go from. Apparently, Raoul had actually _worked_ for MAGI at some point. And he left for '_health reasons_'?

Did Raoul have some sort of awful disease? Was _that_ his secret? No. It wouldn't make any sense…what would that have to do with Dumbledore?

Despite the lack of any truly telling information in the headline, it certainly gave him renewed zeal for the search. He copied down the headline on a piece of parchment and set the folded paper aside. "Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

"Why don't you send for one of the kitchen elves to bring us up some dinner? By the looks of it, we have _at_ _least_ a few hours ahead of us."

* * *

Rosemary was glad that she had answers, not that it truly changed anything at all. She was still alone – well, mostly at least. She supposed she had Warren and her parents. And her friends…in spirit?

She began to undress in front of her bedroom mirror and suddenly the mental image of Tom snogging Gwen Carrow was plastered on the back of her mind. Before she knew it, there were all sorts of uncontrollable, ridiculous thoughts flying through her head:

_Who _else _has he snogged? Did he enjoy kissing them more than kissing me? _

Rosemary examined her profile in the mirror, first from the front and then from the side. Her waist could be considered rather svelte, but it could be thinner. Her hips and legs formed a shapely curve, but her thighs could be smaller. Her breasts were sizable, but they could be bigger. And then she thought of all the Slytherin girls that she knew lusted after him (which, of course, was essentially all of them) and how pretty they all were – and that wasn't even including their stick-thin, model-like figures. She frowned slightly at herself and hurriedly slipped on her nightgown, turning away from the mirror and reaching for the bottle of gin in her trunk. She drank and lost herself to her thoughts, while an unmistakable, disturbing feeling of jealousy crept up inside her. For a moment, everything that she had learned about him in the past couple of months was all but forgotten and only one question burned in her mind:

Had she made an awful, terrible mistake?

But then (thankfully) she realized that this Tom was far removed from the one she had fallen in love with – or at least _thought_ she had fallen in love with. If the version of him she had loved was kissing other girls, it would have destroyed her. But this simply wasn't the case; judging from Faye's confession earlier that evening, the Tom that Rosemary loved had probably never even existed. She was thankful for this realization in a way, as it would give her strength and certainly give her even more of a reason to steer clear of him. But it was also completely devastating in and of itself: not only had she essentially gotten alienated from her entire friend group – it was all for absolutely nothing, as well. She couldn't even look back and appreciate the memories she had with him because they were clearly all a lie. How could she believe he ever loved her if he was going around threatening her friends behind her back?

Even worse, now through her own fear of him, she was essentially under his complete control and would undoubtedly continue to stay as far out of his way as possible until they finally graduated Hogwarts.

And still, regardless of this flood of sobering realization, she was still completely shaken by the thought of him kissing Gwen Carrow.

Rosemary took another shot straight from the bottle and flopped onto her bed, smashing her face against her pillow in frustration, deciding that she had a very long five months ahead of her. All she wanted was _one thing_ she could do to distract herself from thinking of her barely-friends and Tom. _One_ way to escape.

Well, she supposed there was one thing she could do. It was crazy…but, really, what did she have to lose at this point?

_Quite a bit…your Head Girl position, for one._

The other side of her mind argued back: _If I got caught. It's not as though I was ever truly been a model student to begin with…I'm used to getting away with this sort of thing._

_Why not something more constructive?_

_Potentially preventing more students from getting injured seems quite constructive…_

Before she allowed the opposing side of her mind to come up with another counterargument, she raced to her desk and scribbled on a piece of parchment:

_Jasper,_

_I'll fine-tune it – you brew it. _

_\- R.H._

* * *

He glanced up from the June, 1929 newspaper and raised an eyebrow at Rosier and Mulciber, who suddenly walked through the door of the study room with Eileen Prince and Sylvia Goyle, the boys looking half-amused while the girls seemed entirely alarmed.

Tom eyed the boys expectantly – they had better have a damn good excuse for bringing non-Knights around while working on strictly Knight-related business. _Plus,_ they had distracted him from his search.

"Apparently there's a new ghost in the castle," Rosier told him with a shit-eating grin. "They just saw her upstairs." He nodded his head in the direction of Prince and Goyle.

"Her?" Malfoy asked.

"That mudblood that died two years ago…what was her name?"

"It started with an 'm', didn't it? Mary? Marge?"

"Myrtle," Tom breathed as his mouth bent into a scowl.

He supposed he was overdue for an onslaught of bad luck after things had been going so well the past couple of weeks. It just figured, given the improvement his Knights and his recent strides in uncovering Beaumont's secrets. Of _course_ the only potential witness to his connection with the Chamber of Secrets, the Basilisk, and her death suddenly reappeared out of seemingly nowhere. And why now?

That didn't matter, he decided. All that truly mattered was that she had either had lost part of her memory through death or hadn't actually known his secrets to begin with. If she did, it would mean _very, very_ bad news for Tom – after all, he couldn't exactly just off her again.

* * *

"_We're all of us haunted and haunting." ― Chuck Palahniuk_

* * *

**Guess what?! Finals are in less than two weeks. :D You really have no idea how excited I am for this stupid quarter to finish. Annddddd you'll be pleased to know that I'll be devoting much of my Christmas Break to TDLR!**

**A few notes:**

**1\. Tom's part was short this time, but I'll switch it up again next chapter. The impression I've gotten is that many of you don't really like the chapters that stick to only one POV, which I totally understand! Please let me know if you like this setup better (even if it means one character has a shorter part), or if I should just go ahead and do single POV chapters. Either way, I'll continue doing my best at keeping it balanced between Tom and Rose overall. Also, please let me know what you thought of the fact that I switched POVs a few times this chapter. Does it get annoying, or is it a nice shift?**

**2\. For those of you wondering why Myrtle didn't appear at Hogwarts until now, there will be an explanation a couple of chapters from this one!**

**Thank you to Queentakesjack, Oksanallex, and x2leoj for your reviews!(:**

**Just a reminder that the more reviews I get for a chapter, the more motivation I have to keep working on the next one and the less likely I'll be to put it at a low priority on my to-do list. Just something to keep in mind.(;**


	58. Part II - The Eavesdropping Lottery

The Eavesdropping Lottery

_January 19, 1945_

She was surprised at how quickly a reply came. Not only that, Rosemary was actually quite impressed with how professional he was about the whole thing, given that it was _Jasper_ she was dealing with. Then again, she supposed it was essentially an actual business at this point. Especially with the recent post-holiday boom in sales.

According to their agreement, she owed him at least one improvement in the potion per two weeks. As each batch took around five days to brew, this would give her a chance to try it out, adjust the recipe, and then start in on the next one.

Of course, he had made her a few promises in his reply, too. Per the agreement he proposed in his reply letter, she would remain completely anonymous and he would send her a new round of ingredients every week so she could continue to test and perfect the potion. Along with his weekly shipments would come a rare ingredient of her choice, a perk of his original offer that she had actually all but forgotten.

Unfortunately, her entire involvement was pending on whether or not she could actually find a safe place to brew it. It was far too risky to leave it brewing in her own room. Her first thought had been the Room of Requirement, but then she realized that the magic from the enchantment on the room might somehow interfere. This had been her only real idea, so she definitely had some thinking to do.

That afternoon, she made her way outside in hopes that the fresh air might help her mind stumble onto an idea. Unfortunately, the January wind was so bitingly cold that it appeared to have numbed her thoughts just as efficiently as it did her hands.

Rose glanced toward the Quidditch pitch where Warren was leading the Ravenclaw team practice. As much as she actually liked the cold, she wondered how they could stand it: flying around at high speeds in that cold wind for _hours_. Willingness to do such a thing had to be some sort of diagnosable madness.

She watched as they flew in various formations, orchestrated by Warren's commands. As she watched him in action, she attempted to feel the same way that she used to feel while watching Tom instruct Dueling Club. And, as unsettling as it was to admit it, she just didn't feel that same unyielding admiration toward Warren. There was a part of her that wondered if it was simply due to her dispassion toward Quidditch in general, but also another that told her that she just didn't care for Warren the same way as she did Tom.

Things weren't bad with him. Or good. They just sort of…were.

And she was bored.

Rosemary sighed and lit a cigarette. Her walk outside had certainly allowed her mind to wander, but clearly about the wrong things.

When it was finished, she re-entered the castle and saw a small group of fourth year Gryffindor students – two girls and a boy – lounging on the stairs in the entrance hall.

"You should tell her!" Trish Meyers said.

Rosemary couldn't tell if they were talking about her, or had just happened to glance at her as she was walking by. Then she heard:

"No, don't! It's _so_ awkward between them now that they've broken up. Can you imagine, having to work with your ex _all the time_?"

Yeah, they were definitely talking about her. Of course, what she was more concerned with was the fact that they also appeared to be talking about Tom...

She was honestly quite afraid to find out why exactly that might be, but she supposed it _was_ her duty as Head Girl to find out and make sure that things were fine with the students. After all, if she was going to be breaking every other rule in the book by fixing Jasper's potion, the least she could do was put a bit more effort into being Head Girl.

"Good afternoon," she greeted them. "Everything alright?"

Trish looked at the boy – named Quentin Ashburn, if she remembered correctly – pointedly, but he simply muttered "Nothing."

Rose frowned slightly. "Are you sure?"

He nodded hesitantly, but Trish rolled her eyes and said: "Riddle wouldn't let him join Dueling Club."

Alyssa, Trish's best friend, looked horrified at her friend's declaration. So did Ashburn, but to a lesser degree.

"What? Why?" Rosemary asked, though there was no need – she was almost certain that it was because he was muggle-born. Being a Gryffindor likely hadn't helped, either.

He shrugged, looking embarrassed. "He just said that I'm not ready to compete with the others." Then he was quick to add: "And I don't blame him. I mean _he_ would know, if anyone."

There was something that irked her by the way he said this: in pure reverence for Tom. In that moment, it struck her all over again that the vast majority of the school was completely clueless as to who he really was. And, ironically, it wasn't so much that she disapproved of his exclusion of these muggle-born students from Dueling Club; in reality, she was just frustrated that he had gotten his way, _yet again_, without any sort of ramifications.

Rosemary knew she shouldn't get involved, but she was on her last shred of patience with Tom's apparent power over everything at Hogwarts. Especially now that she knew it was essentially his fault that she could no longer spend time with her friends.

"If he changed his mind, would you still be interested in joining?" she asked Ashburn suddenly.

The Gryffindor nodded his head eagerly. "Of course. He's one of the greatest duelists in the country – maybe even the _world_. It would be absolutely amazing to learn from him."

Rose fought both the urge to roll her eyes and then the desire to smirk as she pictured what Tom's face might look like if he found out that this muggle-born adored him so.

"I'll see what I can do, Ashburn."

Of course, she regretted saying this as soon as she walked away from them as she now felt morally obligated to discuss it with Tom. Surely _that_ wasn't bound to be the easiest conversation in the world. But something told her it desperately needed to happen; perhaps if she showed him that she would stand her ground with him, he would back off a bit and her friends could actually start openly speaking with her again.

She headed up the Grand Staircase on the way to her dormitory, trying to decide what exactly she would say to Riddle the next time she saw him. Also on her mind was the same question that had been plaguing her all afternoon: where was she going to brew Jasper's potion?

Any train of thought that she had suddenly came to a screeching halt when she reached the second floor and heard a loud wailing just down the hall. It startled her and she rushed off in the direction of the noise, worried that it might be a student in trouble.

The high-pitched wails and sobs led her to a door that was half-cracked and when she realized where exactly she was, she immediately stopped.

As someone who had never really associated herself with the school's muggle-born students, she had barely known Myrtle. In fact, she was quite sure that hardly _anyone_ had known Myrtle. Nevertheless, her death had shaken Ravenclaw.

Shouldn't Rosemary at least say _something_? It seemed callous to simply walk by the bathroom without any sort of acknowledgment of the girl that had been a member of her own house. Plus, she had heard of enough Slytherin boys getting in trouble over the last twenty-four or so hours since Myrtle had been discovered to know that she was having a rather rough time of it. They had taunted her mercilessly the evening prior, taking turns throwing random objects through her forehead. And though Jason Mulciber and Eric Rosier were the only two that got in any sort of trouble for it, she was almost certain that Tom was somehow involved.

But what could she say to her?_ 'Oh hi, Myrtle – sorry you died.'_?!

No, of course not. But she should at least attempt to be somewhat comforting. She slowly opened the door to the bathroom and crept inside, at which point she wondered if one could actually 'creep up' on a ghost.

"Myrtle?"

* * *

Tom was on his way to confront the mudblood's ghost and figure out precisely how much she knew when he rounded the corner and saw none other than Rosemary Horton sneaking into the newly haunted girls' bathroom.

_What in the hell…?_

As soon as she was inside, he strode without a beat of hesitation to the half-open door.

"Myrtle?" he heard her call out to the pathetic, sobbing mess of a ghost.

The crying abruptly stopped and for a few moments, there was only silence.

Then: "You aren't supposed to be here, didn't you hear Headmaster Dippet's announcement?! Wait, _Rosemary Horton_?! I never expected _you_ to come here to taunt me." The crying started again.

"What? No, of course not! I just wanted to…see how you were doing."

Her sobs became a bit more subdued. "Really?"

"Yes," Rose said softly. "I heard about last night…"

Tom smirked in pride of his Knights, whom he had granted permission to make her return to Hogwarts as difficult as possible.

"They're an awful lot." Then, rather abruptly, she asked: "I loathe every single one of them – _especially _Olive Hornby."

"I'm not the biggest fan of her, either," Rose said. "But they're not all bad."

"You're just saying that because you're friends with most of them. I still can't comprehend why you settled for _Avery _of all people."

"I didn't, actually. We broke up last year."

"Oh _really?_ Why?"

"I sort of fell for someone else."

Tom began listening more intently and silently crept inside the bathroom, carefully situating himself just at the edge of a wall so he could observe the conversation without getting himself seen.

"_Who?"_

"It doesn't matter. It didn't work out in the end, either."

_It doesn't matter_.

His instant reaction was offense at way she said it – so cold and distantly. Though she was right, anyway: it really didn't matter. By moving on to Cramer, she had proven that once and for all.

"And now what?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, aren't you engaged by now?"

Rosemary shook her head. "Warren Cramer and I went steady over the holidays, but no, we're not engaged."

"Oh, I always thought he was _so_ handsome –"

Tom gritted his teeth at these words.

" –You should tell him to come up here and visit me sometime."

Rosemary smirked slightly. "Sure."

Myrtle suddenly looked bored. "Well, enough about you. Don't you want to hear about my death?"

Rosemary sounded rather apprehensive when she answered: "If you would like to tell me about it, you're more than welcome to."

The ghost didn't skip a beat: "Well it was just dreadful! All I can remember is seeing that revolting creature's huge yellow eyes. It was right here – right where I'm floating now! And that's it – I just died. That slag Olive found my body. It's her fault, you know, that I died – if I hadn't been in here crying because of the terrible things she said to me, then it never would have happened."

It was certainly a relief to hear this account. Apparently he had no need to confront her after all; she hadn't a _clue_ what really happened.

"Is that why you came back to Hogwarts?" Rose asked. "To haunt her?"

"Oh no, I was haunting her for _months_ outside of Hogwarts," Myrtle declared gleefully. "I thought it would be far more fun to surprise her in places she wouldn't expect me to be. But when I paid her a visit during her brother's wedding ceremony over the holiday, she tattled on me to her father, who went to the Ministry. They sent me here and I'm banned from going anywhere outside of this bathroom until she graduates. Originally they had offered to let me go to my parents' house, but they're muggles so they can't see me anyway. And even if they could, I doubt they'd want to: I visited them just a month after my death and every picture of me in the house had been taken down." She started weeping again. Of course.

Rosemary looked at her sympathetically. "Oh, Myrtle, that's _awful…_"

He made a face; why was she being so disgustingly compassionate – and to a _mudblood_, no less? It made him loathe her even more to see this form of weakness within her.

"It's not like things were much better when I was alive," Myrtle sighed. "Not that you could _possibly_ understand – your life is perfect."

Tom moved to leave. He had gotten what he wanted and he was certainly not interested in hearing any more of the mudblood's sob story.

"No it's not," he heard Rosemary say defensively.

"Oh, please. How can you say that? You're far too pretty for how intelligent you are. Not to mention your perfect pureblood parents, perfect boyfriend, and huge group of friends…And I'm almost positive you were made Head Girl. Weren't you?"

Rosemary flushed and said sheepishly: "I was."

"Well, there you go. I never had any of those things when I was alive."

"They aren't all as great as they seem…"

Tom paused, half-way out the bathroom door.

"Oh? Do tell…"

"My family only acts like we enjoy each other's company around other people. We're definitely not close. And Warren? Well, he's nice I suppose...certainly a bit more grounded than who I was with previously."

More _grounded_? What was that supposed to mean?

Then Rosemary laughed. "It's rather ironic since he's rarely on the ground because of Quidditch."

Myrtle sighed. "You're right; you're not perfect. Your sense of humor is terrible."

She laughed again, but then said soberly: "Anyway, I don't know what it is…he's just sort of plain, I guess? And as far as my friends go, well, I rarely talk to them anymore either."

Was it awful that hearing this made him inexplicably happy? Maybe. Oh well.

Myrtle sounded as though she was smiling. "I like talking to you, Rosemary. Will you come back and visit me? Now that Dippet banned anyone from coming in here, I'll be all alone…"

"Sure," Rosemary nodded. There were a few quiet seconds between them until she spoke again: "I can't believe I'm about to ask you this, but…well, I need a quiet place to brew a potion…"

"So you want to brew it here, because you know that no one is going to come visit me? And surely it's one that is against the school rules – otherwise, Slughorn would just borrow you his office."

"I'm sorry, please forget I said anything."

"You can brew it here," Myrtle said suddenly. "I'll make sure to keep everyone away – not that I really need to _try_ to accomplish that. But you owe me a favor then, Horton."

"What favor?" Rosemary sounded relieved. "Anything."

"We'll see. Deal?"

"Deal."

And just like that, he had won the eavesdropping lottery.

* * *

After another long evening of sifting for traces of Raoul and MAGI through the papers Mulciber and Rosier had fetched for him the night before, he slowly made his way back to his dormitory. Tom had found little in the way of useful information, but despite this, he was elated and still in half-disbelief that he had been lucky enough to witness the exchange between Rosemary and Myrtle. He opened the door to his dormitory and was about to step inside when he heard her door creak open across the hall.

"Riddle," she said.

"Horton." Tom turned to see her looking at him rather reproachfully, her arms crossed over her chest. "How can I help you?" he asked shortly, suddenly rather nervous that she somehow knew that he had overheard her conversation. But he quickly dismissed this thought – how would she have _possibly_ known that?

"Well, I guess I'll just come right out and say it-"

"By all means." The faster he could get whatever this was over with, the better.

She narrowed her eyes slightly at him. "I ran into a student this afternoon that was quite upset and told me that you turned them away from Dueling Club last night."

Tom was rather surprised that she had the nerve to even bring it up to him. But of course, he welcomed any opportunity to put her in her place. He smirked arrogantly at her and said in the most condescending way possible: "I'm well-aware that you don't understand dueling, Horton. But I'll have you know that it is well within my bounds as Dueling Club Captain to restrict membership given that there are only a few weeks remaining until the inter-school competitions begin. While their interest in my mentorship is appreciated, there is no possible way that they would ever be prepared enough to compete."

Tom could tell by the way her face was flushing that he had sufficiently aggravated her. And she deserved it, too, for daring to stick her nose in his business. He wondered what the look on her face might be if he revealed that he knew of her secret brewing – surely it would be just as entertaining, if not positively more so.

Of course, he would have to wait. He couldn't simply expend this new-found leverage at any time – he would save if for something far more strategic. Perhaps he would threaten her into telling him everything she knew about Beaumont and MAGI, but only as a last resort, if his own research wasn't going anywhere – dealing with Rosemary Horton as little as possible remained a very high priority.

She looked as though she wanted to hurl an insult back at him. Had all the time she had spent with Cramer dulled her mind so profoundly that she might try such a stunt?

"Was there something else you wanted to say?" he dared her.

There was a satisfying, tiny flicker of fear of her eyes as she shook her head.

He smirked again and turned to leave, but froze in place when he heard:

"Are you sure it didn't have anything to do with the fact that they are Gryffindor students? Or perhaps that they are all muggle-born?"

He whirled around to face her once more, so taken aback by her bold outburst that he laughed at her. "What exactly are you implying?" he took a couple of steps toward her and narrowed his eyes slightly, his confident smirk still glued to his face.

"Nothing"

They were standing quite close now – less than a foot apart – and she looked quite regretful that she had opened her mouth at all. And for good reason, because her comment had made him somewhat paranoid that she might know of his connection to the anti-mudblood incidents he had orchestrated. And _that_ was something he certainly couldn't chance.

"No; do elaborate."

Her face was unreadable. "I just know you have a tendency to be a little biased, that's all."

He didn't know whether or not to believe that this was all she meant by her comment or if she just didn't want to let on that she knew more. And there was really only one way to find out…

Unfortunately, the most effective Legilimency technique was to focus all of one's senses on the target, which had been the primary reason he had abstained from performing it on her even once after things ended between them. There was part of him that worried it would spark too many of the memories that he had been so careful to repress. But surely he could handle it now – after all, disdain and irritation were the only emotions he felt toward her any longer. Plus, it was absolutely essential that he remain well-informed of what she knew about his extracurricular activities.

He was about to mentally utter the spell when it occurred to him how long it had truly been since he truly looked in her eyes, which were a shade of deep blue so vibrant that, before her, he wouldn't have believed to be humanly possible.

She blinked. "Goodnight, Riddle." He attempted to refocus, considering time to perform his survey of her mind was quickly running out. But as she swiftly turned away, he was blindsided by the smell of her hair and all he could think about was the way that they used to sleep, with her body curled up against his and her hair in his face. The way he would breathe in her warm, spicy scent all night…

_No. _He did _not_ like her smell. For him, it no longer evoked such innocent interpretations, like ginger and vanilla. Now it equated to betrayal and agitation.

She closed the door in his face and he looked at it a few moments, trying to make sense of everything that had happened inside his mind over the last thirty seconds or so. When he realized he couldn't, he muttered "Goodnight, Horton" and retreated to his own room.

Though his failure to perform Legilimency on her had subdued some of his earlier feelings of triumph, the overall deep sense of satisfaction remained. It would take far more to shake that from him. Not only did he know of her misconduct, he knew that she was unhappy with Warren and for some twisted reason he could not explain, this was intoxicatingly pleasing to hear.

He wondered briefly if, when she kissed Warren, she felt as lost as Tom did whenever he kissed another girl. He wondered if she felt just as alone.

And then he wondered: what in the bloody hell was he thinking? Warren didn't even matter in this picture – he just wanted to know that Rosemary was fucking miserable. _That_ was all that truly mattered: she was getting exactly what she deserved for what she did to him.

And just like that, all he could think about was that awful night. The one he had spent weeks trying to forget:

"_Get out_," _he told her coldly._

_Rosemary looked at him with those sad blue eyes as though _he_ had done some major disservice toward _her_. Was she completely delusional?_

_He slammed the door behind her when she left, using his hand instead of a spell because he thought it might feel far more satisfying. It did._

_Tom stared at it for a moment before beginning to pace around his room._

_Since when was she so fucking righteous? Had she honestly expected him to sit back and continue to allow Cramer to parade her around? What kind of weak scum did she think he was?_

_None of this mattered, he realized. They were over. _

_But how? It didn't make any sense. He loved her…she loved him. _

_He suddenly felt as though he couldn't breathe. What was he going to do? How could he fix this? It would surely take more than an apology. In a stroke of irrational genius, he wondered if he should just erase her memory of that night, just like he did to Warren._

_And then it hit him: if she judged him for what he did to Warren, what would she have thought about the far less innocent things he had done over the past couple of years? What would she say if she knew about Myrtle, his family, the Tournament reporter? There had always been a small hope within him that, someday, she might understand him enough to tell her – to share himself entirely with her and perhaps learn her darkest secrets as well – but clearly he had been far too optimistic in this regard. Even if he erased everything he had done from her mind, he still wouldn't be able to trust her with everything else. So what was the point?_

_He took her scarf from the drawer in his nightstand and brought it to his nose, breathing in the faint traces of her scent from the fibers. Then he tossed it on the middle of his bedroom floor and set it ablaze. _

_If he had to be alone for the rest of his life, so be it. This prospect was unquestionably preferable to going through the constant effort of hiding himself more than he already had to. Wasting his time on her, or anyone else for that matter was simply not worth it. It would never be worth it._

That night, he had felt as though one chapter of his life came to an end and another had begun in its place. Even in his devastation, he had felt some sense of resolve.

Why, then, did she continue to dominate so many of his thoughts? And when would it finally end? He had thought that things had finally reached a point of closure between them – but if that was the case, why did she still have the power to throw him off? Why did he even _care_ whether or not she was unhappy? A terrible feeling stirred within him as he realized how far he still had to go to get her out of his head entirely.

For them, things were far from over.

* * *

"_The memory of you emerges from the night around me." – Pablo Neruda_

* * *

**Hey friends! Sorry for the late update. I ended up re-writing half of this chapter because it wasn't turning out quite the way I wanted. Also, things have been absolutely crazy with school - but there are only four days until Christmas break! Yay! **

**Thank you to Oksanallex, Guest, Guest, x2leoj, RosiePosie15, and Guest for your reviews!**

**I want to thank all of you reading this story for being so patient, both with my erratic updates and the relatively slow pacing of Part II thus far. BUT - good news! From here on, the pace of the story will pick up quite markedly. I've been building things up for a while...now it's time to get to the good stuff.(;**

**Looking ahead to the next chapter, another confrontation between Rose and Tom awaits. Plus, more Knights stuff! ****Due to my exam schedule, I'm planning on having the next chapter out by Friday next week (the 18th) and hopefully I'll be making some major progress with writing over the holiday.**

**Last thing! This site apparently hates links and as a result, I've decided to make a Pinterest account for the story so you can take a look at my character/general story inspiration. Check out www. pinterest (dot com)/MsRoseHorton if you're interested. I have far more work to do on it, but at least you'll get the general idea.(:**


	59. Part II - The Dueling Demonstration

The Dueling Demonstration

_January 26, 1945_

"Did you see the look on his face?" Mulciber was laughing hysterically.

"Priceless. Absolutely priceless," Dolohov beamed and looked at Tom for his approval.

Their leader nodded, a giant smirk plastered on his face as well.

The rest of the Knights looked equally amused and Tom swelled in pride and satisfaction. His plan had worked nothing short of seamlessly and, as a result, he thought it very unlikely that another mudblood would be foolish enough to try and join Dueling Club.

It all began earlier that week during an impromptu meeting with Dippet and Dumbledore, when they told him he had no choice but to allow that pathetic mudblood scum to attend the next Dueling Club meeting. He had argued the same points he had to Rosemary, but to no avail.

"You'll just have to make an exception this once," they told him.

Tom knew it had been Horton's fault, that she had surely talked to either Dumbledore or Dippet about it after their confrontation, but he supposed it didn't matter all that much. It certainly wasn't worth another interaction with her; after all, he was still reeling a bit from the last time she threw him off so significantly.

Besides, he knew his plan would prove them all wrong and show them that filthy mudbloods were inadequate to participate in dueling. And oh, things had gone _exactly_ to plan!

The club meeting started out like any other, as Tom ran through their practice agenda and made any other announcements. After this, he had given a short offensive spell demonstration. Then it was time for the fun to begin. "With competitions beginning in only a few weeks, today we will have one-on-one practice duels. One pair at a time; I will provide a short critique of your duel when you are finished. Now let's see…who should we see first…Rowle and Yaxley!"

Three duels down and then he announced: "I'm very impressed so far. You've each improved markedly in the past few months. However, I haven't actually seen _all_ of you duel. In fact, we have a newly aspiring duelist among us this evening – say hello to Quentin Ashburn, everyone." He gestured in the direction of the Gryffindor mudblood who waved shyly to the crowd of primarily pureblood Slytherin students standing around him. "Now then, let's see what you've got, Ashburn. Rosier? Go easy on him. But not _too_ easy, of course."

Tom sat amongst the crowd as Rosier and Ashburn took their places on the dueling platform. He could feel the excitement of the Knights around him as they tried to stifle their grins of anticipation. They, of course, knew just as well as he did exactly what was coming.

They fired two or three spells back and forth, Rosier holding back just long enough for Ashburn to gain a bit of confidence. Then, just as Tom predicted, the mudblood tried a trickier spell that clearly exceeded his abilities. As he attempted to recover, Rosier took the opportunity to utter the curse he had practiced with Tom earlier that afternoon.

Seconds later, gasps of surprised escaped from the crowd as Ashburn was knocked back several feet – so far back that he was thrown from the platform. Silence quickly enveloped the Great Hall where they practiced, despite a few scattered coughs here and there from Knights attempting to disguise their laughter.

Tom walked over to him and announced to the others that he had been knocked unconscious. He had even taken the mudblood to the infirmary, to keep up appearances, of course. And he had waited there, until the mudblood woke up.

"What happened?" he had asked Tom.

Tom smirked, relishing the moment: "Not everyone is cut out for Dueling Club; that's all."

Later that night, he met with the Knights to celebrate their victory. "As you see," he began, "We are unstoppable, so long as we act with our ideals in mind!"

This was met with considerable applause.

He hesitated, debating whether or not he should even bring up what he was going to next, worrying that it might detract from their recent victory. However, in his elation he was unable to help himself: "It is with this dedication that I believe we will transition our efforts to Grindelwald's forces."

There was a half second of silence following in words, in which he worried he had made an awful mistake of bringing it up. But then, as though his words had taken just a few seconds longer than usual to travel the room, the Knights slowly erupted in applause.

* * *

Unfortunately, as sweet as this victory was, it was just as proportionately short.

"Good afternoon, Tom. Have a seat," Dumbledore greeted him soberly the following evening.

The old wizard studied his face for a moment when he sat and Tom responded by dialing up his Occlumency efforts to their maximal degree, rightfully paranoid by the events of the evening prior. "How can I help you, Professor?"

"It appears that Dueling Club is getting a bit out of hand, Tom."

"A bit out of hand?" Tom echoed, looking at him in disbelief. "With all due respect, Sir –" (though truly, there was no respect _actually _due) "–a minor injury is not exactly uncommon in dueling. Just last year, Markus Avery was in the infirmary for three full days after suffering a particularly impressive blasting curse."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow slightly. "If I remember correctly, the blasting curse came from _your_ wand."

"That is completely beside the point," Tom said, as he attempted to hide an arrogant smirk, remembering that particular evening of Dueling Club. His aggravation had been sparked earlier that afternoon, when Rosemary informed him of Markus' previous boasts regarding the conquering of her delectable body. That was also the day that his intimacy with her had reached new bounds: while they had not yet reached the comfort of unadulterated exploration of each other's bodies, it was the first time he had truly allowed himself to lose control in her presence. It felt so close, so remarkably intimate – and, looking back now, so innocent. How would he have known that in just a few weeks, he would become so excessively addicted to the way her flesh felt under his fingertips, the picturesque anatomy of her womanhood, the maddeningly erotic noises she made at seemingly every motion he made…?

What, exactly, was his point again? Oh, right: his revenge toward Markus on her behalf.

Dumbledore snapped him out of these thoughts, which, due to his now-half-aroused state, he was surprisingly somewhat grateful for. After all, these unconstructive thoughts of Rosemary had no place in his rehabilitated mind. The last thing he needed was for her to poison his good senses again. If his last encounter with her was any indication, he needed to stay away from her. Far, far away.

"Given the current political climate, it was difficult enough to convince parents to allow their children to return to Hogwarts this term. If we cannot guarantee the safety of our students within these walls...well, I'm afraid that we will have no choice but to inform them that we have failed to uphold our promise in this regard. As Head Boy, I'm sure you appreciate the gravity of this situation…" He waited for Tom to acknowledge this last statement, but when he was simply met with a blank stare, he continued: "Unfortunately, this means that we have no choice but to suspend Dueling Club, at least until the ongoing threats of the outside world are finally resolved."

"_What?_" Tom asked sharply. "You can't be serious…It was _one_ accident!"

"An accident that, due to the pressing issues of today, is certain to strike a chord. The issue of blood status is more taboo than ever, Tom. If the press were to get word of this, or any of the other blood-related incidents of these past few months, Hogwarts' reputation would suffer tremendously. We must do what we can to minimize this damage while the discriminatory efforts against muggle-born remain at large. I'm afraid that this means the suspension of Dueling Club. Unless, of course, you have anything you wish to share in this regard?"

"What do you _think_ I have to share?" Tom challenged him, placing so much effort into Occlumency at this point that he could hardly process the words emitting from his own lips.

"I wouldn't have the first thought as to what you might share," the old man said with an air of innocence that Tom wouldn't have bought in a million years. "A few of your housemates that you seem to be quite well-acquainted with are suspected for the discriminatory events that occurred earlier this term."

Tom wasn't sure what came over him in the next moment: was it was the fact that Dueling Club was getting shut down, the nerve of Dumbledore to essentially tie him to the anti-mudblood effort, or some combination of both? Regardless, he found himself in the midst of a sudden outburst: "Discriminatory? Do you want to know what _I _think is discriminatory? The fact that those of my house are blamed for every single problem in Hogwarts. And even if they were involved, why would they ever tell me, given my position?" He glared at the professor and stood to leave, worried that his sheer rage might puncture a hole in the bubble of his Occlumency that hid the truth behind his thoughts. "Well, I certainly hope you enjoy answering to the parents of children who are incapable of defending themselves after leaving Hogwarts."

Dumbledore smiled serenely. "There is no reason to worry, Tom. I have given my utmost efforts to ensure that the Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum is more than adequate to prepare our students for whatever they may encounter in the future."

"It's hardly adequate," Tom snorted, unable to restrain himself from taking such an easy shot at the ancient fool.

The professor stood and moved around his desk so that they were standing eye to eye. "Give it a few days' time to fully sink in, Tom. The loss of that which we covet is never a painless undertaking." The way that the old man's eyes sparkled as he said this comment was not only in reference to Dueling Club, but to Rosemary as well.

_Bastard_.

Without another word, Tom strode briskly to the door and let himself out, pulling it shut rather forcefully behind him.

Dueling Club was over. Gone. A product of _years_ of dedication that was now meaningless. He was boiling in rage and was at an absolute loss of what to do. His dark thoughts immediately consumed him. It wasn't until he saw a flash of dark red hair that he was shaken out of his mind and realized he had been pacing around the castle for a good twenty minutes.

He watched Rosemary enter Myrtle's bathroom and a slow smirk crept onto his face. Apparently, being in the right place at the right time was his new talent.

* * *

"So are you going to tell me what you're brewing yet?" Myrtle asked her as she flew in circles a few feet above Rose.

Rosemary rolled up her sleeves as she poured a jar of dried lacewing flies. "I'd rather not."

"Well, I'd rather not share my bathroom when I don't even have the first clue what's going on," Myrtle said testily.

Rosemary bit her lip. During her first brewing session in the second-floor girls' bathroom, she had successfully evaded Myrtle's questioning in this regard. But now Rose wondered if asking for Myrtle's help at all had been a rather significant mistake. The ghost seemed completely incapable of keeping her mouth shut, quite the opposite of the shy, mousy girl that she had been in life.

But what choice did she have, now that she had made a commitment to Jasper and had already sent him a trial that he was quite impressed with?

"This stays between us," Rosemary eyed the ghost.

"Well, obviously. Isn't that part of the deal?"

Rosemary sighed as she began plucking the wings off the flies and adding them to the bubbling cauldron, one by one, waiting until the liquid turned bluish-green. "Have you heard of ECB, Myrtle?"

"No. What is it?"

"It's sort of a…stimulant. Well, sometimes at least. It's really a quite functional." Despite the gravity of what she was confessing, she couldn't help but feel at least a bit of pride in her work. Jasper had told her that her very first batch had alleviated one of more serious side effects. She wasn't quite sure how he knew this: if he was testing it himself, or was testing it on someone else. Regardless, receiving this news had made her feel the best that she had in a long time. She knew what she was doing was wrong at its core, but at least she was helping people. It felt like the most productive thing she had done in months. And she was good at it.

Myrtle's jaw dropped in shock. "Rosemary Horton? Brewing _drugs_? I _never_ – you're Head Girl!"

"This stays between us," she repeated warningly.

A look of near-pain spread across Myrtle's face, probably realizing how difficult it would be to keep such a juicy secret. Thankfully for Rose, nobody else ever visited Myrtle.

She was hoping that the ghost would drop it, then, and allow her to continue working, but she was not so lucky: "Why are you doing it?" she asked plainly.

Rosemary opened her mouth to respond and it was then that she realized she didn't really have a legitimate answer to this question. To ensure that students were using a safer version of it sure. But beyond that? Part of her wondered if maybe it was just for the thrill of the rush. After all, since Warren had replaced Tom in her life, very little felt like a "rush" any longer. Part of her wondered if she was addicted to the sort of unhealthy adrenaline she had grown so accustomed to while dating Tom. Did brewing this potion represent one of her last fixes as she prepared to graduate and assume the tedious roles of adulthood? Then came the scary thought: what if this fix wasn't enough? What if she wasn't ready to grow up?

She quickly shooed these thoughts from her mind, given that they weren't particularly helpful in answering Myrtle's question. "It's a favor for an old friend," she finally decided on.

Of course, the questions wouldn't stop there:

_What friend?_

_Where are you getting the ingredients?_

_Are they paying you?_

_How do you know what changes to make to improve the potion?_

And on and on and on and on….

'_If she keeps up like this,'_ Rose thought, _'I will have to take ECB just to stay sane while brewing ECB.'_

* * *

She had just stepped out of the bath when she heard a brisk knock at her door. _Warren? _He had mentioned stopping by that night.

"One moment!" she yelled, hurriedly running a comb through her hair and throwing on a silk robe. She typically didn't dress so scantily when she knew he was coming over, but she was probably just going to tell him that she was too tired to spend time with him that night anyway. Her conversation with Myrtle had been quite taxing, after all.

She opened the door to see Tom standing in the corridor, glaring at her. Rosemary, suddenly quite self-conscious at her lack of proper clothing, pulled the top of her robe closed just a little more. "Evening, Riddle."

Apparently there was no time for niceties: "You have some nerve, Horton," he snarled. "You told Dippet, didn't you? Or Dumbledore?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked him nervously. It had been a long time since she had seen him this angry. In fact, this was perhaps the most furious he had ever been around her.

"Like you don't know," he said snidely, stepping close enough to her that she took a step away from him and felt the doorframe against her back. "Last week – that mudblood that wanted to get into Dueling Club?"

She shook her head. "No. I didn't say anything."

But she had, of course…and maybe she should have said more. She suddenly remembered earlier that year, when Dumbledore told her to come to him if Tom was giving her any problems. And really, this couldn't be more true – he essentially _was_ all of her problems. The terrifying look he was giving her certainly made her question her silence on the matter.

"_Liar_," he hissed, moving even closer and glaring intensely down his nose at her. She suddenly felt quite small, dwarfed by both his height and the terrifying things that she knew he was capable of. It was at this moment that she realized just how cold the corridor apparently was and grew even more self-conscious when she felt her erect nipples pressing against the thin fabric of her robe. She crossed her arms over her chest as he continued, thankfully appearing not to notice: "You just _had_ to interfere. It's entirely your fault that Dueling Club is being disbanded."

She didn't know what to say, but she was afraid that being dishonest with him would only continue to make him angrier. Rosemary sighed, trying to force her voice to sound calm: "Tom, I don't know what to tell you. They would have found out anyway…It was the right thing to do."

"Yes, you're a fucking saint." He looked at her in such disgust, such deep loathing, that she almost started to cry. Just a few months prior, she never would have anticipated him looking at her this way, or saying something so uncalled for to her. What did he even _mean _by it? She didn't know. All she knew was that she was angry. _Very_ angry.

And then she realized just how tired of his bullshit she was – tired of everyone (including herself and her friends) walking on eggshells around him. She was tired of his arrogance, tired of the fact that he always won. Tired of him treating her like shit just because she ended things with him.

Without a second's though, she snapped: "Actually, I'd say this is all the fault of your friends, due to their inability to control their magic. I guess all that time spent in Dueling Club didn't teach them that much after all."

He was so shocked that he let out a slight laugh. "Excuse me?"

In the back of her mind, she knew she should stop, but finally telling him off felt far too satisfying. "Oh, and I know you're jealous of my relationship with Warren, but you'll just have to get over it. It's a nice change, being with someone that the majority of Hogwarts isn't terrified of."

"Do you honestly think that I'm jealous of that pathetic excuse of–"

She cut him off: "And while we're on the topic, I want my old friends back."

_Oh Merlin, Rose, stop…_

Her mouth, however, appeared to be disconnected from her mind, acting entirely on its own accord. "I know they haven't been speaking to me because they don't want to cross you, but I'm absolutely sick of it. It's pointless anyway – I already know everything that you've been up to."

Was it just her imagination, or was he looking at her like he might want to give an Unforgivable a try?

He looked taken aback for a fraction of a second, until his mouth twisted into a smirk. He spoke slowly, as if every syllable had been meticulously calculated: "You know, Miss Horton, I would be very, very careful if I were you. After all, you've seen that I'm quite proficient with memory charms. Although, I doubt I'll have any need to use one on you...I'm well-aware of the secrets you'd probably like to keep. Particularly in regard to your little hobby…_Drugs_, Horton? Really?"

Her heart beat picked up. _How did he know?_

At first she wondered if Myrtle had told him. But then she remembered last week, when he had looked at her eyes for just a second too long and she knew what had actually happened: legilimency.

She swallowed, immediately regretting her impulsive outburst. "Is that a threat?"

"You can call it whatever you like. Let me make things even simpler for you to understand: stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours."

* * *

_"Stronger than lover's love is lover's hate. Incurable, in each, the wounds they make." ― Euripides_

* * *

**Thank you to RosiePosie15, Oksanallex, NanamiYatsumaki, Queentakesjack, Guest, Guest, gr8rockstarrox, Guest, and Blerb for your reviews! I'm sorry I haven't gotten around to replying to them yet - that is first on my to-do list tomorrow morning. I just got in from a day's worth of traveling without Wi-Fi and wanted to get this chapter up ASAP. I would have posted last night and responded to everyone's comments if I could have, but there were some serious hiccups in our travel plans.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! More to come soon - and you can bet that I'm going to make it fairly difficult for Rose and Tom to stay out of each other's way.(;**

**In addition to my lovely reviewers, thank you so much to all of you that have favorited/followed! Your readership means sooo much to me.(:**


	60. Part II - Red Flag

Red Flag

_January 30, 1945_

When they arrived in Potions on Tuesday morning, Slughorn stood at the front of the classroom looking oddly pleased with himself. "I have only one announcement this morning –" he started, "– one that may excite the great majority of you: we will not be brewing in class today!"

As expected, there was an excited murmur amongst the class and a few students even broke into applause. Tom rolled his eyes. Why did these dolts even come to Hogwarts if they didn't want to learn anything? What unappreciative gits. Despite these feelings, he couldn't help but be at least somewhat appreciative of the fact that he wouldn't have to spend yet another class period brewing with Horton in their stubborn silence.

"Instead, this weekend you will work with your partner to brew a replica of the renowned Skele-Gro potion! You will find the modified Bone-Regrowth Potion on page six-hundred and twelve of your textbooks."

His insides churned uncomfortably at this twist of fate. Apparently, he and Rosemary would not be staying out of each other's way as much as he had previously anticipated. To at least a small part of him, this was quite troubling. What if she tried to stand up to him again? He only had so much to use against her now that she was aware of his secret (though, thankfully, she remained naïve of the others). He had sacrificed far too much power in their truce of the weekend prior and this made him uneasy. Clearly, he would have to think of some way to get her back under his control and neutralize the threat she now posed.

"My stores will open at eight a.m. on Saturday morning for you to come and retrieve the necessary ingredients and your completed potion will be due in my office at eight a.m. this coming Monday. While forty-eight hours may seem like a considerable amount of time to complete this assignment, I highly caution against putting it off. This is a very labor intensive, challenging potion. It is also the brew on which ten percent of your mark this term is based."

There was a concerned grumble across the class at this last bit and, out of the corner of his eye, Tom saw Rosemary shift uncomfortably in the seat next to him. He doubted that this was because of the importance potion in their overall course grade so much as a concern over working with him. He smirked in satisfaction; apparently he had sufficiently scared her. Perhaps he needn't worry so much over whether or not she would stay out of his way.

"I will be giving you the rest of class today to work with your partner to prepare for your assignment: decide where to brew it, look over the recipe, et cetera."

With that the class broke into conversation, the majority of it being complaints over the assignment. At least thirty seconds passed in which Tom and Rosemary said nothing, as though they had suddenly entered a contest of sheer will-power in which neither of them wanted to be the first to speak to the other.

However, as the seconds ticked by, Tom grew impatient. He had better things to do than play games. But just when he began to open his mouth, she said:

"I'll take care of it, Riddle." She spoke in a distant voice, her eyes glued to _Advanced Potion-Making_, studying the assigned recipe.

"What are you talking about?" he narrowed his eyes.

She looked up at their professor and then said to Tom quietly: "Well, it's not as though Slughorn would _know_ if we didn't work on it together…"

He scoffed. "And place the fate of ten percent of my Potion mark in your hands? I'd rather not."

She didn't appear to be all that surprised at his objection. "Saturday morning, then?"

"I have Tournament training this Saturday. Didn't Dippet speak to you about covering my rounds?"

"How could I forget?" Horton gave him an annoyed look. "Saturday evening?"

"I have a prior engagement."

"Let me guess, a meeting with your gang?" Rosemary narrowed her eyes this time, dropping her voice again to a near-whisper. "Can't you put it off so we can get this over with?"

He gave her a threatening look that read: _'Stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours.'_

She sighed. "Sunday morning?" After a moment's pause she added sassily: "Oh wait, I can't – I'm working my _actual_ Head Girl rounds then."

He knew he should move his meeting with the Knights – it would be as easy as telling them a new time, after all – but there was no way that he was going to do anything that would bring any sort of satisfaction to Horton. Even if it meant risking their performance on the potion (not that it was really a gamble, anyway – as the best students in the class, he was fairly certain that even their worst attempt would be better than any other pair's best). "Sunday evening it is, then. Six o'clock?"

"Unbelievable," she muttered, throwing her potions book in her bag somewhat aggressively. "Slughorn _just_ told us not to wait until the last minute. And according to the recipe, it's going to take four hours minimum once everything is in the cauldron."

A small smirk appeared on his face as he was rather amused at her distress. "I suppose we'll just have to get it right the first time then, won't we?"

She gave him a defeated look. "Where are we brewing it?"

"The classroom?"

"That's what _everyone_ is going to do. I mean, do you _really_ want to have to answer every other pair's questions when we have our own brew to worry about?" She flipped her hair over her shoulder and said this in a snotty tone that irritated him to no end, as though her statement had been completely obvious. Even if it _had_ been obvious, he still loathed it. No one deserved to speak to him in such a way, least of all Horton.

She was right, though, and this was the most loathsome reality of all.

"Alright," he gritted his teeth, wondering why every moment he spent interacting with her had to be so entirely agonizing. "My room. Sunday. Six o'clock. I'll pick up the ingredients that morning while you finish your rounds." He gave her a withering glare as she opened her mouth to respond to him, likely to protest that they would be brewing in his dormitory. She would just have to get over it, given that he was entirely unwilling to brew in her dormitory or, Merlin forbid, the mudblood's haunted bathroom that he was suspected Horton may have suggested if given the opportunity.

"Fine," she said sharply; apparently, she had picked up on the fact that it would be foolish to continue arguing with him. This was fortunate, as his patience for their conversation had faded quickly and he was absolutely through debating with her over any aspect of the project.

Slughorn was standing at the door to the classroom when Tom went to leave. They exchanged nods of acknowledgement and then, so quickly that Tom could have easily missed it, Slughorn sent him a wink.

This perplexed him at first, but as Tom stepped past Slughorn and into the corridor, he knew exactly what had happened: the professor had assigned this project as a _favor. _A chance for Tom and Horton to spend time together. Clearly, the professor thought that Tom and Rosemary were still sneaking around and that her relationship with Warren was merely a continuation of their ruse.

Tom clenched his jaw at this realization, wondering why Slughorn was so insistent upon meddling in his personal affairs. Though of course, Tom would have appreciated the professor as his ally in essentially any other capacity. He briefly considered whether or not he should tell Slughorn that things between himself and Rosemary had ended, but quickly dismissed the thought. As much as the Potions Master adored Tom, he also adored Horton – what if informing him created a hitch in the rapport Tom had built? Besides that, he may just assume Tom was lying anyway in order to protect their secret.

Perhaps Slughorn would figure it out on his own and if not, it didn't really matter all that much anyway. The professor's capacity to stick them together was limited to their work involving Potions and Tom supposed he could manage dealing with Horton for just a few excruciating hours per week. If nothing else, it could provide him with another venue to put her in her place.

'_Yes,'_ he thought optimistically. _That_ was what he should focus on: finding some way to show her that he was the one in control and that he had more leverage over her than she did over him. To get her out of the way, once and for all. Besides, if all else failed, he _could_ use this opportunity alone with her to simply erase her memory.

* * *

"_You are a manipulator."_

"_I like to think of myself more as an outcome engineer."_

― _J.R. Ward_

* * *

On Sunday morning, Rosemary took the seat next to Faye at the Ravenclaw table and poured herself a cup of tea. "Good morning," she greeted her blonde friend sleepily.

"Good morning," Faye chirped, scanning through her newest copy of _Which Witch?_ "Did you know that Fiona Gobbsmacker and Curtis Ellingsway were expecting? Apparently, she's already three months in!"

"It must have been off my radar," Rose said dryly. She, unlike Faye, had always considered tabloids to be a great waste of time and paper. "How did your potion with Rebecca turn out?"

"Oh, atrociously," Faye grinned. "You know Becca – the only reason she is even in seventh-year Potions is because the practical portion of the N.E.W.T. happened to be on the one potion she could somewhat successfully brew."

Rosemary would have asked why they hadn't bothered to redo it, but she already knew the answer: it was pointless. With Faye's engagement and surely an upcoming proposal for Becca by Markus, their grades no longer mattered. Soon, the already-slim chance that they would ever have to use the magic they learned in a job setting would become zero. Of course, this realization brought back that same question that loomed in the back of her mind like a storm cloud just waiting to roll in: how long would it be until her grades no longer mattered, either?

"How about you and Riddle? Have you started yet?"

'No. Not until this evening." Then she lowered her voice so the Ravenclaws sitting a few seats away from them couldn't hear: "Apparently, he had a meeting last night that was far too important to postpone."

"Oh that?" Faye waved her hand. "They met for about twenty minutes and then came downstairs to have a few shots for Antonin Dolohov's birthday."

"Are you serious?" she asked angrily. "Merlin, Faye, I don't know how I'll make it through tonight without completely losing it – he's bloody insufferable!"

"Well, you're not the only one under stress," Faye announced suddenly. "Our wedding planner sent me a catalog this morning of bridesmaid dresses that are so far out of season, my mum used one of the styles in her wedding! You would not _believe_ the nerve of these people!" She slammed the booklet down on the table in front of Rosemary for emphasis.

"Yes, Faye, dealing with an old-fashioned wedding planner is far more stressful than constantly being around your ex that is, as it turns out, a mad-person." Rosemary's voice dripped with sarcasm as she paged through the catalog and tossed it back to her friend.

"Oh, brighten up!" Faye sighed dramatically. "It could be worse. At least you have _me _now."

Rose smiled as Faye pinched her arm. It was true – she was extremely grateful to be able to speak to her best friend again. She hadn't yet tested the waters on Rebecca, Markus, and Adam, figuring she should be at least a bit cautious just in case it drove Riddle to find some loophole in their stalemate and render her friendless once more.

"I have to say, I'm quite impressed…standing up to Tom Riddle: you're one brave soul."

"I suppose. Or just stupid."

"Equally likely," Faye nodded in agreement. "Though I wasn't going to mention that."

After breakfast, Rosemary spent a couple of hours in the library finishing an essay for Transfigurations and then began her rounds. She dreaded the hours ahead of her: given that it was Sunday and the majority of the student body was holed up in their dormitories or the library finishing their weekend assignments, she knew that her rounds would be largely uneventful. Of course, there was another part of her that was quite thankful of the fact that she could put off working with Riddle for just a bit longer.

She began on the top floor of the castle and methodically began working her way to the dungeons, one floor at a time. As she traversed the seemingly endless corridors, her mind inevitably began to wander.

First she thought of that conversation with Faye – in particular, that irritating bit about Tom and what he had _actually_ been up to the night prior. As if it wasn't bad enough that he was putting off their project to meet with his group of delinquents, most of the time had been spent _partying_. Oh, the nerve! He had probably spent half the night snogging one (or more) of his Slytherin fangirls.

A sudden flare of anger consumed her; at first she thought it was because of his stubbornness to rearrange his schedule and accommodate their assignment, but she felt something else gnawing at her as well. She pondered it for a few moments, but couldn't quite place her finger on it. Surely she wasn't _jealous_. She'd have to be completely mad to be jealous of any poor girl that fell for his charming façade. But that wasn't it either: if she was simply angry that others couldn't see through him, that certainly wouldn't explain the bursts of irrational anger that she had felt over the past few weeks toward any of the Slytherin girls she suspected Tom had messed around with.

It _definitely_ wasn't jealousy, though. That was just ridiculous.

She spent the rest of her rounds attempting to get Riddle out of her head. Just in time for her to make her way to Tom's dormitory and spend several hours with him, of course. It was seconds after this realization that she looked up and spotted Warren heading her way.

"I thought I might find you here," he smiled and pecked her on the lips as they met in the middle of the corridor. "I wanted to say hello before I left for practice, considering I've hardly seen you this weekend."

Rosemary gave him an apologetic look. "I have been quite busy, especially after covering Riddle's rounds."

"I know." He nodded and smiled, but looked somewhat bothered.

"Is something wrong?" she asked him, though she already had a fairly good idea of what it might be. Warren had been acting off all week, ever since Slughorn had assigned the potion.

He ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose I'm alright," he said. "I'm just worried about you."

"Why?" she asked, suddenly confused.

"Well, I don't know…working with Riddle and all. I could skip practice, come with you, and work on a few things for other classes while you and he brew the potion…"

Since when did Warren know that Tom was dangerous? Her heart beat suddenly picked up as she wondered whether or not Warren had any idea of what Tom did to him. But how? Tom had quite carefully erased his memory of the event. She decided to test the waters: "I don't think he'd do anything to harm me, do you?"

Warren looked away from her face. "No, I don't think he'd _harm_ you. I'm just worried he'll make you uncomfortable."

Rosemary was relieved that Warren still appeared to be clueless about the incident. With this worry off her mind, she was actually able to appreciate the sweetness of Warren's thoughtfulness toward her. Only she didn't see it as sweet – she thought of it as clingy and somewhat possessive. And she couldn't help but think that part of him didn't trust her to be alone with Tom. Truthfully, she only_wished_ she could see Warren's gesture as sweet.

It was a feeling that she was beginning to recognize more and more with him. Why did every goddamn thing he did annoy her to such vast ends? Even though he was, theoretically at least, the perfect boyfriend? She kept telling herself that this feeling of exasperation was just part of figuring out a new relationship: she had to get used to his quirks, just like he had to get used to hers. But when did it end? When was the cut-off point to decide that she would be unable to adapt to his style of companionship? They had already been together for a month...

But things were getting better, weren't they? Now that he was busy with Quidditch and she was busy with her secret brewing, they rarely saw each other. Even given this apparent improvement, she couldn't help but consider her lackluster attitude toward spending time with him as a bit of a red flag.

Though spending time with him in Tom's presence seemed like the biggest red flag of all.

"I'm sure everything will be alright. Thank you for offering, Warren," she told him politely. "I really should be going."

He nodded somewhat hesitantly. "Alright."

Rosemary smiled and was about to walk past him when he suddenly put his hands on her waist and pulled her close to him, crashing his lips against hers. The kiss felt desperate, as though he thought she would surely go running back to Tom that night if he didn't express his passion for her that very second.

She hadn't even realized that she had pushed him away until she saw a hurt look flash across his eyes. Rose scrambled rapidly for a way to justify herself and, with a stroke of genius, hissed: "Warren! Not while I'm on Head Girl duty!"

The look of pain quickly vanished and was replaced with his eyes' usual playful gleam. "Apologies, Rosemary. You should know by now how difficult it is for me to resist you."

Yes, she certainly did, didn't she? Every time they were alone he seemed to be attempting to move things along at a faster pace, though not at an entirely unreasonable rate. Judging from how quickly things had moved with Tom, Warren should have seen her clothes-less about a hundred times by now. In reality, he had been remarkably patient over the last month but even _that_ had felt too fast for Rosemary. Maybe she just wanted to take her time, really get to know someone before another relationship came crashing down in a fiery mess. Or maybe, it was just another red flag.

* * *

His door was cracked slightly when she arrived. She knocked twice before pushing it open to see Tom sitting at his desk, reading his Potions textbook. He looked up at her reproachfully when she walked in. "You're late."

"Sorry, I ran into my boyfriend near the end of my rounds," she said in her sweetest voice, watching for a satisfying gleam of jealousy to pass over his eyes. Sadly, it never came. She knew it was a petty stab, but didn't he deserve it after acting so stubborn over his schedule? The fact that he would rather potentially tarnish his reputation in Potions than agree to accommodate her very reasonable wishes to get the assignment out of the way as quickly as possible truly showed how much he loathed her.

"No problem," he said coolly before gesturing to the cauldron set up in the middle of his room with the twenty or so required ingredients stacked neatly near it. "Everything is ready to go. Shall we trade off steps as usual?"

She nodded, rather surprised at his formality toward her given the nature of their recent confrontations. Perhaps, like her, he just wanted to get the brew over with in the least painful way possible. Rose was thankful regardless of the true reason behind this temporary cease-fire.

They worked together in silence for a half hour or so, prepping what ingredients they could in advance. Regardless of their failure to get along on a personal level, they found themselves falling into their usual, efficient flow. The truth of the matter was that they were excellent Potions partners – certainly more so than Rosemary cared to admit.

Two-hours later, they had surpassed the labor-intensive steps of the potion – now, they essentially just had to kill time and let it brew, with a stir or minor addition here and there. Thankfully, she had brought a stack of textbooks with her to keep her occupied. Riddle had the same idea, apparently. She watched as he crossed his room, sat in his desk chair, and got to work on other things.

Rosemary shifted uncomfortably on the floor where she sat and glared at the back of his head in annoyance. He could have at _least_ offered her a chair. But it was best not to complain: the last thing she wanted to do was disrupt the careful semblance of armistice they had created.

Minute after minute after minute ticked by. Both of them moved only once or twice an hour to ensure that the potion was coming together properly and the blanket of silence that had formed in the room the moment they started brewing had yet to be lifted. Instead, it seemed to become thicker and more suffocating by the second. Rosemary soon found herself thinking more about the silence than of her readings.

It was maddening. So much so that she was almost tempted to break their temporary neutrality and initiate their bickering all over again. It occurred to her that it felt incredibly odd to be in the same room as Tom, the one who she had considered her best friend just a few months prior, and sitting in absolute silence. She had always enjoyed their conversations: they were exciting, engaging. Rosemary loved the fact that he could keep pace with her in this regard. Plus, Tom almost always had something interesting to say. From an intellectual standpoint, they had been a great match.

'_Unlike with Warren…'_ she heard that pestering voice in the back of her head mutter.

Rose pushed this from her mind for now, allowing her thoughts to wander into very dangerous territory: reminiscence. She decided that she was so beyond bored that she would take her chances.

She traveled back to her previous thoughts. It was true: she really had considered him her best friend. Even more than Faye. Not only had they spent hour upon hour talking, she had learned so much from him: the basics of dueling, how to stand up for herself, how to be deeply intimate with someone…

This all felt so long ago, though she supposed this was to be expected. After all, it was prior to the discovery of who he really was. Along these same lines, how did she know if she had ever _actually_been deeply intimate with him? Had she just been close to the person he had sold to her? When did the Tom she thought she knew end and the Tom she failed to recognize begin? Was there any sort of overlap? Could she have caught it earlier?

If she had, and she somehow learned to accept it, would they still be together?

Apparently, she had allowed herself to get a bit too carried away with her nostalgia: when she finally snapped back to reality, it was five minutes past when she should have added the chopped Flibbertub Worms. Her heart began to pound as she hurried to add them before Tom noticed, stirring them in quickly to the bubbling, grey liquid. She picked up their Potions textbook and looked at the footnote that corresponded to the Flibbertub step:

_89\. Mixture should be semi-gelatinous, dark green after addition_

Rosemary held her breath and looked down at the potion: light blue. She grimaced, a feeling of dread ballooning inside her which increased exponentially when she glanced at the clock on the wall on his dormitory and realized it was nearly midnight already.

What was she going to do? She _ruined_ it! And all because she was thinking of _him_! It wasn't as though this was a potion that she could easily salvage, especially not at such a final stage. Her heart beat even faster when she realized that she would need to tell Riddle what happened. But would she dare to tell him that it was she who had made the mistake? It wasn't as if he could actually _know_– well unless, of course, he read her mind. Though she supposed she would rather take that chance than tell him outright…

"This isn't right," she finally announced.

"What are you talking about?" He looked instantly panicked, essentially falling out of his desk chair before lunging across the room and snatching the copy of _Advanced Potion-Making _from her hands. If she hadn't been so distraught over the current situation, she might have laughed at such uncharacteristic clumsiness.

She watched as he began studying the recipe. After a couple of glances between their brew and the book, he said plainly: "Fuck."

* * *

**Will Tom figure out that it was Rosemary who botched the first batch? Will their temporary armistice last or will one (or both) of them fold under pressure? Will Tom and Rose finish the potion in time?! You'll find out all this and much, much more next chapter!**

**A huge thank you to all of you that took the time to review: Blerb, Guest, Oksanallex, Guest, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, NanamiYatsumaki, RosiePosie15, Owlofthenight, Guest, marly4077, Guest, x2leoj, Guest, and Guest! :D**

**Happy holidays to all my lovely readers! Thank you so much for making this fic such a rewarding experience to write!(:**


	61. Part II - White Flag?

White Flag?

_February 5, 1945_

_12:22 a.m._

They strode quietly through the corridors on the way to Slughorn's stores to gather more supplies. They were out far past curfew and though they were Head Girl and Boy, she knew that they would still get into trouble if someone happened to catch them. She was thankful when they reached the stores without event.

Things had been completely silent between them since realizing that they would need to re-brew the potion in their already exhausted states. Unfortunately, this changed soon after Tom closed the door behind them and they started gathering the ingredients for a second batch.

She was reaching for the glass jar that held dried newt tails when she felt Tom's eyes watching her carefully. Suddenly, he asked: "Do you know where things went wrong?" She was surprised that his tone contained only a small air of accusation.

Rose was about to shake her head, but couldn't quite bring herself to do it. Once again, there was no point in lying to him. Perhaps she would even avoid flaring his temper if she just came right out with it – after all, he seemed to be relatively calm at this point. "I added the Flibbertub worms a few minutes too late," she admitted quietly as she removed the lid of the jar of newt tails and removed two.

Then she looked up at Tom and saw him glaring at her intensely. So much for avoiding his temper. "Unbelievable…I turn my back for one second and you find a way to ruin it," he snarled.

Really, did he have to be such a git about it?

"Well, if we wouldn't have started at the last minute, we wouldn't be in this situation now would we?" she snapped back. She considered confronting him about the fact that he had apparently been partying the night before, but thought better of it. The last thing she wanted was for Faye to face Tom's wrath.

Her instincts in this case seemed to serve her well, as an even more menacing glare appeared on his face. She imagined it would have been far worse if she had dared to mention his partying. "You did this on purpose, didn't you? To retaliate after I wouldn't reschedule my meeting yesterday evening? I warned you to stay out of my way, Horton..."

Rosemary rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous – of _course_ I didn't do it on purpose! This counts for as much as my Potions mark as it does for yours." Growing angry at his accusation, she added in a snarky tone: "And for your information, if I did something out of revenge you would know. Trust me."

Tom looked taken aback for a moment but then his mouth suddenly twisted into his trademark smirk. "Do you think I'm scared of you, Miss Horton?" As he spoke, he began to walk toward her. She stood her ground, even when their faces were less than a foot apart. "I thought I made it perfectly clear that it is _you_ who should be afraid of _me_."

Her heart beat fast in her chest and it pumped even faster when he raised a thin finger to her chin and tilted it up so that she was looking directly into his eyes. "Well?" he asked her in a silky, terrifying voice.

'_That escalated quickly,'_ she thought. As she debated how to respond to him, she felt her emotions split in a pattern similar to the last few times she had dealt with him: should she stand up to him and show him that he couldn't _always_ win? Or should she keep her mouth shut and trust the part of her brain that concerned itself with her wellbeing?

This time the sensible part of her won over the impulsive one. Of course, a major factor in this decision was the fact that they would be spending several more hours together in an enclosed space.

"Yes, you made that clear," she told him, looking away as he dropped his finger from her chin.

She didn't look at him again as they finished gathering the ingredients from Slughorn's stores, but heard the smirk in his voice when he answered, "Good."

_1:17 a.m._

Rosemary's mouth opened into a large yawn as she stirred the cauldron and she looked up to see Tom rubbing his eyes. She sighed. If they both stayed up all night brewing the second batch, how would either of them make it through the full day of classes ahead? Unfortunately, judging from her last interaction with Tom just minutes prior, they would be pulling a near all-nighter:

"We can sleep in shifts, Riddle," she had told him. "I'm perfectly capable of managing the potion on my own."

"Well, you weren't two hours ago. So you'll have to pardon my skepticism on the matter." His voice was arrogant and it agitated her to no end.

"_Asshole_," she muttered under her breath as her face turned scarlet.

"What was that?" he asked, giving her an almost amused look.

"Nothing." Rose backed down again, uninterested in another confrontation like the one that had taken place in the corridor earlier that morning.

And that was it. There would be no sleep for either of them.

_3:46 a.m._

A little more than halfway through the brew, she ran out of homework to finish for other classes. Rosemary considered reading ahead in a few of her textbooks, but worried she might begin to doze off as she was beginning to feel incredibly exhausted at this point.

It was Tom's turn to mind the potion, so she let her thoughts wander, cautious to keep them as far away from him as possible. Instead, she thought about Warren, but grew instantly irritated when she thought of their most recent interaction and that worried look on his face. Then her mind shifted to her brewing ECB for Jasper, Myrtle's companionship, and the dilemma of whether or not she should inform Faye of what she was up to. This had been yet another source of stress as of late.

Realizing she had little to think of that _didn't_ cause herself stress, she gave up on allowing her mind to wander. Suddenly, she found herself watching Tom discreetly while he worked.

Even in her dislike of him, she had to admit that he was quite attractive with his tall frame, dark hair and eyes, and handsome facial structure. Girls had always swarmed to him for a reason, after all. Then she began to wonder if he had snogged anyone last night at the party and an irrational rush of unpleasant feelings (which were _most definitely_ not jealousy) flooded over her. Was he actually dating any of them? Gwen Carrow, perhaps? She had wanted to ask Faye but didn't, worried that she might come off as a bit too interested in her ex.

Out of both curiosity and immense boredom, she quickly devised a plan to find out. She knew it would undoubtedly instigate yet another bickering match between them, but she simply couldn't help herself: "So I overheard Carrow telling her friends that the two of you are going steady now." It was a lie, albeit a very plausible one.

He looked up from the cauldron and gave her a look of amusement. "What if I am, Horton? Are you jealous?"

"No," she laughed with incredulity, hoping that he wouldn't see through her. "There's no need to worry about that. My boyfriend makes me perfectly happy."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow and said pointedly: "You aren't _bored_?"

"What are you talking about? Of course not." She swallowed, knowing that he saw through her lie yet again.

"Oh come now, Horton. You can't fool me…"

She was getting so fucking tired of constantly worrying whether or not he was inside of her head, detecting even the smallest lies she told him. Rosemary felt the heat rise to her face at these words and suddenly words of her own were spilling from her lips: "Face it, Riddle: you're not over me. Why else would you spend so much time reading my thoughts?"

He let out a short laugh. "Of course I'm over you. And I didn't find out by reading your thoughts," he snapped. "I heard you telling Myrtle."

"Oh, so you're spying on me, then? Even better."

"I wasn't –"

"Whatever," she shrugged, cutting him off.

Of course, this only served to infuriate him: "Well clearly I'm not the only one spying. You're the one eavesdropping at any mention of my name. Do you know what I think? I think that you went steady with Cramer just to _try_ and make me jealous. I think you regret ending things, especially now that you see just how…_influential _I've become. Who knows, maybe you even ruined the first batch to spend a bit more time alone with me."

She stared at him for a long time before responding. "Well, it's certainly good to know that you're just as delusional as you are arrogant."

* * *

_6:29 a.m._

He could hardly believe it, but somehow they managed to finish their potion in time. As they completed the last step, it was a momentous relief to see that it was the correct consistency and color. On top of it all, he held the satisfaction that Horton would never know he too had made a fateful mistake in their first batch. He was more than happy to let her take the blame rather than admit that he had accidentally skipped a round of stirring. Tom had only asked her if she had known what went wrong to assess whether or not she suspected him: he hadn't expected her to admit that the mistake had been all hers.

It was probably for the best that they finished when they did, considering their exhaustion and the fact that it seemed impossible for either of them to say anything without further escalating the tension between them. Though he had to admit, he was beginning to rather enjoy their banter. There was some small part of him that enjoyed her boldness and the challenge it presented.

Rosemary leaned forward to bottle their potion and Tom's eyes were drawn to the view of the ample cleavage that the motion afforded. Tom sucked in his breath as a rush of memories flooded his consciousness. He could remember just how they felt in his hands: just the right firmness and just the right size. And then there were those gorgeous pink nipples that practically begged him for attention. He certainly hadn't held back in this regard: licking, kissing, sucking, and biting them until Rosemary was so sensitive she couldn't take anymore. Merlin, he had to admit that he missed those breasts.

He thought of the other night when he had confronted her over the disbandment of Dueling Club and how she had emerged from her room so scantily dressed. If he hadn't been so outraged, it would have been exceedingly difficult to keep his eyes away from her.

What was happening to him? How could he go from frustration and resentful comments earlier to fantasizing about her body over the course of just a few hours? He pondered this question for a bit and it was then that he realized that just because he was over her didn't mean that he wasn't attracted to her any longer. He decided this was okay as there would be little he could do to stop it anyway.

Then she turned away from him and began gathering her things to leave. He watched her skirt slide up her legs further and further as she bent over; just a little more and he could have seen her panties. It took him a few seconds to realize that, once again, he was holding his breath.

Part of him wondered if she was doing it on purpose: was this the sort of revenge she was referring to earlier that morning? If so, he had to admit that it was quite effective. He wasn't used to wanting something he couldn't have, after all.

But what if he actually could? He hadn't really been serious earlier when he accused her of wanting him, but after recognizing his own attraction for her, it didn't seem out of the question to assume that she was still just as attracted to him too.

For a moment, he found himself thinking of the barrage of girls that followed him around during the Slytherin parties (particularly Gwen Carrow, who he would obviously need to have another word with about spreading lies that they were going steady). Why was it that they all failed to draw his attention? Why, when he very occasionally attempted to indulge their interest through a bit of snogging, did Horton's face keep appearing in his mind?

Then he had another realization: maybe the reason he couldn't take an interest in anyone else was because he had somehow glorified his past encounters with Horton? What if physical interactions with her really _weren't_ any better, but because he was relying on his memory instead of a more recent comparison, he had been misled? And then he thought: maybe he _should_ make a more recent comparison so he would know for certain.

Well, _that_ was indeed an interesting idea. The more he thought about it, the more it began to grow on him. He'd been searching his mind over the last few days for a strategy to put her in her place and ensure that she kept quiet about his activities, preferably without the use of a memory charm (as this route would surely be less personally satisfying). And really, what better way would there be to keep her quiet than this? She wouldn't dare to cross him any longer in fear that he would tell Warren, or worse, her parents about her indiscretion. One time was all it would take.

But could he actually trust his thoughts? After all, he was so exhausted that he basically felt drunk.

"I'd say it's been a pleasure, but, well, it hasn't," she sneered and walked out of his dormitory before he had a chance to respond.

There was something about hearing that arrogant, sassy tone of hers that made him want to assert his dominance over her. To punish her for such an attempt at rebellion. His earlier idea was sounding better and better all the time…

But no, he wouldn't. What if it went to her head and she took it as a sign that he wasn't over her?

He pretended not to watch as she walked away and into the corridor toward her own dormitory. Part of him recognized that he had made the right decision: playing with fire was almost always an awful idea, after all. He just wished he could block out the rest of himself that itched for her.

Tom had been so caught up in his thoughts that it took him several seconds to realize that she had accidentally left one of her textbooks behind.

"Horton!" he called after her, hurrying to his doorway.

She turned around and briskly stepped toward him, reaching for the book in his outstretched hand. When she grasped it, their fingers brushed. He found himself holding his breath for the third time that evening, waiting for her to pull away and take the book with her. Only she didn't.

Time seemed to come to a momentary halt as she looked up at him with those blue eyes of hers, their fingers hardly touching. He became quickly aware of a burning sensation on the spots where her skin had made contact with his, though he had no explanation other than sleep-deprivation to explain this phenomenon. It wasn't a painful or uncomfortable feeling; rather, it was divine. Then, a sudden urge to indulge the rest of his body in such delight appeared in his mind. It consumed him.

And suddenly, they were kissing. Hard.

It took him a few seconds to realize what was happening and even then, he wasn't in the right frame of mind to process it. He was an animal: ravenous. There was no space for conscious thought, except for the flickers of sensation that sparked in the depths of his mind. He thought of the softness of her lips, the playfulness of her small tongue, her taste.

He pulled her inside, closed the door, and pressed her against it. Their ferocious kiss continued and he heard her bag and the forgotten book land on the floor of his room.

Tom picked her up, tossed her on the bed effortlessly, and dove on top of her, getting to work on the buttons of her blouse. He fumbled with them far more than usual due to his exhaustion and he burned with impatience toward the thin layer of cloth separating him from his prize.

He was nearly groaning in desire when her blouse suddenly ripped open, sending four or five buttons flying across his bedroom. Tom looked at her now-exposed chest in confusion for a moment, until he realized that he must have accomplished the feat with wandless magic fueled by his sudden lust for her.

Horton looked up at him in astonishment and he smirked. "Sorry."

Tom quickly removed her bra (which, surprisingly, presented far less of an issue than her blouse) and squeezed her breasts in his hands. As he softly nibbled on her, she moaned and thrust her hips against him, rubbing herself against the considerable bulge that had appeared in his trousers. He marveled at how delightfully hard her nipples became as he continued to tease her. His tongue and fingers worked in perfect harmony to ensure that each of her elegant peaks received adequate attention.

He felt her reach down and attempt to take off his belt. It became quite apparent that he was driving her crazy, which in turn drove him even crazier. Tom decided he would oblige her and climbed off of her just long enough to shed his clothes. He was pleased when he looked down to see that she was doing the same with her remaining clothes.

They kissed again, just as frantically as before, and he was forced to disguise a groan as a cough as her dainty hands reached down and began stroking him. It felt so unbelievably good that he was tempted to close his eyes, lay back, and enjoy it, but he was also faced with the overwhelming urge to touch her as well…

Tom slowly slid his fingers down across her stomach and the well-groomed patch of hair until they reached the seductive folds of her womanhood. He pushed her legs apart further and slowly slid a finger inside of her, sucking in a breath when he realized just how wet she was. Tom removed his finger and inserted two inside of her this time. She whimpered and squirmed in pleasure as he did and his cock twitched in response. He throbbed for her and judging by her superb wetness, she throbbed for him too.

That was it – he simply couldn't take it any longer. He situated himself between her legs and pressed himself into her and she cried out, digging her nails into his back. He groaned aloud, unable to stifle it this time, as she took the entirety of his length, suddenly remembering how tightly her walls wrapped around him.

Tom told himself to slow down, enjoy it. After all, wasn't this supposed to be the last time?

But he couldn't. All he wanted was more, more, _more_, which translated to harder, faster, and deeper. Horton seemed to be enjoying it just as much as Tom was: he relished those delicious little noises that she let out as he fucked her.

He knew things would be ending soon. Part of him dreaded it, wishing they could keep going forever, while another part of him yearned for the release he had gone months without.

And then she came. The sound of her moans filled the room as her walls contracted around his member and the combination inevitably sent him over the edge. He collapsed, panting, his face buried in her fragrant hair.

Apparently, his memories of her had been quite accurate after all.

* * *

"_Let me lie, let me die on thy snow-covered bosom,  
I would eat of thy flesh as a delicate fruit,  
I am drunk of its smell, and the scent of thy tresses  
Is a flame that devours." – George Moore_

* * *

**Hey everyone, hope you enjoyed this chapter! (;**

**Thanks to those of you that have sent in comments after I posted the last update: Oksanallex, Guest, Guest, Queentakesjack, RosiePosie15, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, marly4077, Guest, and Guest! **

**Happy New Year's everyone!**


	62. Part II - The Clarification

The Clarification

_February 5, 1945_

Tom knew he should try to get a bit of rest before reporting to his first class of the day, but it seemed rather hopeless. He was lying in bed, naked, in the same spot that Horton had been in just minutes before. His sheets and pillowcases still harbored her scent and Tom brought one of the fingers that had been inside her to his mouth and sucked on it for a couple of seconds, curious if he could taste any of her residual wetness on him. It was very faint, but still there. He truly did miss her slightly sweet taste.

He played through their frisky morning encounter again and again in his mind. The first time he did, it was so fresh he could almost feel her soft skin under his fingertips. However, every repeat after, one or two of these pleasurable details seemed to escape him.

Her zeal had initially surprised him somewhat given her rather harsh attitude toward him as of late, but when he thought it through he supposed it wasn't actually all that surprising – he _was_ Tom Riddle, after all. He couldn't exactly blame her for being incapable to control herself. Then again, _he_ hadn't done such a great job of controlling himself either…

It felt comfortable, natural, familiar. Just like he remembered.

And it all happened so fast: one minute he was kissing her in his doorframe and the next he was inside her. Next time, he would have to be a bit more patient with it all. He would slow down and relish the sweet curves of her body…he would slide down between her legs and pleasure her most sensitive areas with his mouth.

'_Too bad,'_ he told himself sternly. _'That was it – the last time.'_

However, when this realization hit him, a curious feeling of disappointment appeared in his chest and suddenly it felt rather short-sighted to think that he could never engage in these sensual acts with her again. After all, there was a substantial part of him that was tempted to barge into her room that very minute and have it off with her all over again.

But what did that all mean? He was by no means an expert on emotions.

It was meaningless, he told himself. He had plenty of manly urges that needed to be fulfilled at some point. But even this logic was flawed: he was, after all, Tom Riddle. He could have absolutely anyone that he wanted. So why her? Why _Horton_? Why did _she _and she alone continue to plague his mind? It was entirely animal, he insisted to himself. He was aggressive, a hunter. Wasn't it normal to have the most sexual desire for the one girl that actually presented a challenge in this regard? He rather loathed the fact that he had such a primitive side at all, but surely this was better than any number of the other explanations for his rash actions…

But he knew it was more than this because when they finished, he didn't want her to leave. He wanted to curl her small body up against his and stroke her hair and have a long, intellectual conversation with her – the sort that everyone else he knew seemed to be inept at. He wanted things to be just like before, at the beginning of it all.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember every detail of the seconds after he collapsed beside her on the bed. Neither of them said a word as they regained their breath, but she did turn her head to look at him, her Ravenclaw-blue eyes pouring into his. Her lips were parted slightly, but she didn't smile – she just looked at him with an unreadable expression for a couple of seconds before climbing out of bed, slipping her clothes back on, and exiting his dormitory. It was during these stages of her departure that Tom had realized just how much he wanted her to stay.

Had she felt the same? Or was that unreadable expression one of regret?

_Oh no…_

Clearly this had all been a terrible mistake.

He stared up at the ceiling, worried that his sleep-deprived, testosterone-influenced rash decision had undone all of the progress he had made over the last few months. An invisible weight seemed to settle on his chest as he realized he might have to start all over again.

_Curse you, you seductive harlot._

He sighed. Though he had lost Dueling Club (and thanks to Horton, no less), at least the Knights had become more established and Tournament training was picking up. It would be easy to distract himself…right?

And really, Tom knew he shouldn't feel so conflicted about the whole thing. He had gotten everything he wanted out of their little encounter. She certainly wouldn't be crossing him any longer, in fear that he would reveal their new secret to Warren or her father. Even so, he knew that he would also need to work a little harder to stay out of her way as well in the interest of self-preservation. It was essential that he put an end to the ridiculous thoughts that had cropped up in his mind in the aftermath of that morning and the easiest way to do this was to stay as far away from her as possible.

He rolled on his side and looked at the clock on his wall, shaking his head in disgust as he realized he had wasted nearly an hour and a half thinking of her. Enough was enough: he refused to waste any more of his thoughts on her that day. Tom made his way to the bathroom adjoined to his room and quickly washed up, dressed, and set off to class.

He was able to keep her off his mind for the majority of the day, but his initial resolve was finally broken when he arrived in Ancient Runes, the one class that the Slytherin and Ravenclaw seventh-years shared on Mondays.

Tom took a quick glance around the room and noticed that she had yet to arrive. He did, however, spot Warren Cramer.

_What an ignorant, pathetic fool._

Tom smirked internally, imagining what the look on Cramer's face would be when Rosemary told him what had happened. Well, if she was even going to anyway…Tom wouldn't exactly put it past her to lie, given that she had clearly lied to him about the existence of her feelings for Warren for months.

Unfortunately, any satisfaction he felt at the thought of Rosemary informing Cramer of her indiscretion quickly dissipated when he realized that Cramer got to do the things that Tom had done to her that morning anytime he wanted…Then again, she _had_ jumped into bed with Tom fairly quickly. Would she have done that if she was getting what she needed from Cramer?

He gritted his teeth, wondering why all these inconsequential thoughts had entered his mind. It didn't matter what she did – with Cramer or anyone else. The only thing that mattered was that he had gotten what _he_ wanted.

But had he really? What _did_ he even want?

To forget her? To control her? To, Merlin forbid, have her in his life again?

Earlier that morning he had been so sure that he desired both to control (at least to the extent of keeping her out of his way) and forget her. Now, though, he wanted to do just about anything in his power to keep her away from Warren, to ensure that _no one_ besides himself could touch her. He wanted to control her. Completely this time.

But this hardly seemed realistic. Plus, the last thing he needed was another distraction from his many plans and activities.

'_Forget her,' _he reminded himself firmly.

Thankfully, Professor Viesey began class soon after, which temporarily drew him away from his thoughts. Tom allowed himself to get lost in the warm-up decoding exercise written on the chalkboard and when he finished, he raised his hand triumphantly to indicate that he was ready to share with the rest of the class. As always, he would be the first to finish.

He was about to announce the answer when Professor Viesey said, "Certainly a close call today, class, but it looks as though Mr. Cramer had it first!"

_What?_

Tom felt his insides boil in rage. _Cramer_ had beat him to an answer? What in the hell was happening?

"So, Mr. Cramer, what did you come up with?"

"May the wind be your ally and the stars your guide," he spoke proudly.

"Excellent!" Viesey praised him.

Tom glared across the classroom at Cramer, who was grinning like an idiot.

_Seriously, fuck you._

Then the professor tossed a piece of chalk across the room toward Cramer and said, "Now why don't you come up and show the class how you arrived at your answer."

Warren smiled sheepishly. "Well actually, the only reason I knew was because this exact rune sequence is carved on every broom that Comet builds."

Tom was _really_ beginning to form a grudge against this particular broom company.

Professor Viesey laughed. "I was wondering if any of you would recognize it, though I figured it would be Miss Horton, of course."

Tom turned his head slightly and glanced back, following the gaze of the rest of the class, and saw her give Viesey a weary smile. He could tell that she was annoyed, but doubted that anyone else would be able to notice. She hid it well.

And suddenly, he was wondering what else she was hiding…especially in terms of her thoughts about that morning.

He was again distracted from his thoughts when Viesey said "great job" to Warren.

_Yes, 'great job', you got lucky. But guess what? I was getting lucky with your girlfriend this morning, so take that you fucking wanker._

Though unfortunately, this thought didn't lighten his foul mood as much as he had hoped. In fact, he almost felt worse for some reason.

The class dragged on and he fumed through the majority of it, quite relieved when Viesey dismissed them at the end. He stood and turned to leave, spotting Horton in the back of the classroom once more. She was quickly packing her things into her bag, including the same book she had forgotten in his room that had fatefully caused him to call after her.

Suddenly, he felt a pair of eyes watching him as he watched Horton. He glanced in the direction his instincts were pointing him to, slightly to the right of Rosemary, and locked eyes with Donohue. She swiftly looked away from him and he knew instantly from the look on her face that Horton had told her everything.

A spark of anger filled him at first, but it slowly shifted to an odd sort of satisfaction. Clearly Rosemary thought_ something_ of that morning if she had told someone else about it. Furthermore, she certainly wasn't the type to reveal something so private just to talk about it – surely she had sought some sort of advice from her closest friend.

This triggered a thought in his mind: had it been foolish of him to assume that either of them could experience what they had that morning and walk away completely unaffected? Clearly, if his thoughts all day were any indication, _he_ was unraveling. Given that he now knew she told Donohue, it didn't seem so far off to assume that she was as well. And if that happened, what did that mean going forward?

Had she changed her mind about him? Did the fact that they had slept together mean that she wanted him back, that she still had feelings for him? Horton wasn't really the type to sleep around, after all. And did the possibility she wanted him back mean that she now accepted his darker tendencies?

His head began to pound, both from these thoughts and from sleep-deprivation. Assuming that all this was true, that she now suddenly wanted him back and he could be more of himself with her, did that actually change anything from his side? He was rather enjoying being alone and the freedom it brought. Plus, even if she had finally gotten over what he had done to Cramer, it certainly didn't mean he could be open enough with her to tell her of his more serious offenses. And above all, he wasn't sure he could forgive her for what _she_ did. She had lied to him about her feelings for Cramer and had abandoned him at the first opportunity. He could never trust her to be loyal, a quality that had become essential in those that now surrounded him…

On the other hand, she had been the closest thing to an equal he had ever interacted with and apparently the only girl he was capable of being intimate with while actually enjoying it. She was one of the few people he had ever appreciated talking to. She had been his best friend.

Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world for him to remain open-minded about what happened as they moved forward…Maybe he shouldn't continue his forceful attempts at forgetting her…

Or maybe he was just losing it completely. Of everything that had run through his mind that day, these thoughts were by far the most ridiculous yet. With that, he briskly left the classroom and headed back to his dormitory for an evening of much-needed sleep.

* * *

When Rosemary arrived in her own dormitory that morning, she didn't know quite what to do with herself. She could try and get some sleep for the next thirty minutes or so before making her way to Slughorn's office to turn in their potion, but even attempting to do so seemed like a waste of time. Her body and mind were exhausted, but the adrenaline coursing through her kept her wide awake. Deciding to forgo a nap, she instead drew a bath and poured in three drops of Lady Wellspring's Calming Lavender Bath Tonic which she had received from her mother as part of her Christmas present.

Rosemary lowered herself into the tub and closed her eyes, thinking of the events of just minutes before. It felt entirely surreal and had taken her by complete surprise; so much so that she couldn't even think of a suitable explanation for what happened. All she knew was that, suddenly, her entire body had ached for him. In the end, she didn't know who kissed who. It just happened. Just like the rest.

What she did know was that she had enjoyed every second of it: the sensation of his cool skin against hers, his confident touch, the sudden, passionate burst of wandless magic that ruined her blouse. And then there was the sex itself, which was every bit as spectacular as she remembered. In fact, she began getting turned on again just thinking of the way he had flicked her nipples with his tongue, fingered her in just the right spot, and brought her to climax with his thrusting. Unlike Warren, Tom knew just how to touch her – just how to get her off…

_Warren._

A wave of guilt washed over her and she buried her face in her hands. Should she tell him? How could she be so stupid? How could she do something so awful to someone who clearly cared so much about her? What kind of person did this make her? Surely the worst kind, there was no question.

Though even in the face of this realization, she couldn't help but think that she didn't feel quite as guilty as she should…which probably had something to do with the pleasant stirring in her stomach as she thought about Tom.

But why? She thought she _hated_ him not more than a few hours ago. He was arrogant, bitter…not to mention half-mad. Be that as it may, she had felt an undeniable glimmer of the closeness they once shared and it forced her to confront just how much she missed it. Though they were different in many ways, he was also the same as her in more ways than anyone she had ever met. She had adored his natural brilliance and curiosity, his unapologetic confidence, his ambition, his mysterious nature…

Though she supposed his mysterious nature had taken on a new form. Rosemary thought back to his confrontation with Warren and Markus' and Faye's confessions about him. She had assumed that, since there was this new, far darker side to Tom of which she had been previously unaware, that everything else about him had been some sort of delusion. But that morning, when she felt him touch her the same way and kiss her with that same tender forcefulness that she relished, she realized that she had been mistaken in this assumption. The parts of Tom she fell in love with were still there.

But did that actually change anything? There was still his anger, jealousy, occasional condescension, and violence to consider. Of course, she would probably be far safer if she was on his side again. But she would _still_ inevitably fear him to some degree. Could she bear to live like that?

And then there was the same dilemma that had torn them apart in the first place: her parents' approval. After she began dating Warren, her relationship with her parents had improved markedly and seemed to be stronger than ever before. It seemed utterly foolish to throw away this progress (and a perfectly suitable boyfriend) to attempt to rekindle the potentially volatile flame with Tom.

Was she absolutely insane? Why was she even _considering_ getting back together with him?

She stepped out of the bath, dried off, drained the tub, and quickly dressed. Her mind was still swimming with all her prior thoughts of that morning when she looked in the mirror to put on some light makeup to cover up the unsightly signs of her exhaustion and make her hair look at least somewhat presentable. As she applied a coat of mascara, she heard the door open and close across the hall – Tom was just leaving for class.

_Tom_.

Her heartbeat quickened. Then she leaned back from the mirror to examine her makeup in full and noticed a sudden brightness in her eyes and a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

She could see the truth on her own face: she still had feelings for Tom Riddle.

_Well, fuck me._

Rosemary was still attempting to rid this realization from her mind when she arrived at Slughorn's office in the dungeons just before eight. The door was open and he was sitting inside at his large desk, grading what appeared to be another year's essays.

"Good morning, Professor Slughorn," she greeted him.

The Potions Master looked up and smiled when he saw her. "Good morning, Miss Horton. Come in."

She did, placing the sample of their potion in his outstretched palm.

He shook the flask when she gave it to him. "The color and viscosity look spot-on, as usual." Then Slughorn asked her suddenly: "How did it go?"

"Oh, it was fine…" she tried to say nonchalantly as possible, though she was still panicking internally over the early morning events.

He nodded and a jolly smile spread across his face. "Good, good. I do hope you don't mind my meddling…"

_Meddling?_

"I do hope you won't hesitate to ask if there is anything else I can do to help."

_Oh my…_

Despite his nosiness, Slughorn was obviously very behind the times in terms of their relationship. Did he really think that the two of them were still sneaking around together? But then she thought about that morning and the thought that they were 'sneaking around' didn't really seem that far off…

What was Slughorn saying anyway – that he assigned this project _just_ to give them some alone time? If so, he really needed to get a life of his own. She contemplated correcting him, but didn't. Slughorn looked so pleased with himself for 'helping them' that she couldn't bring herself to crush her favorite professor's spirit.

"Thank you, Professor," she smiled tightly. "I'll certainly keep that in mind."

Because certainly, after everything that already happened that morning, she needed another goddamn thing on her mind.

Rosemary left the dungeons and made her way to the Great Hall, quickly approaching a full-fledged inner crisis over her encounter with Tom and its consequences on her feelings and, more importantly, whether or not (and if so, how) she should tell Warren. She spotted Faye at the Ravenclaw table and made a beeline for her. Though she knew it was probably best to keep what happened to herself, she was in way over her head. Plus, she knew she could trust Faye not to tell the others about something as serious as this.

"I have to talk to you," she said breathlessly.

"Bloody hell, Rose. You look awful," Faye covered her mouth in horror and threw down her pastry on the plate in front of her as though Rosemary's appearance had suddenly caused her to lose her appetite.

She gave Faye a reproachful glare. "Thanks. It's been a _very_ long day."

Her friend gave her a curious look. "It's only eight-thirty in the morning…Do I dare ask how things went with Riddle?"

"That's sort of what I have to talk to you about…Not here, though."

"Okay..." Faye raised an eyebrow. "Your dormitory, then? Loretta and Emily are sleeping in late."

Rose shook her head – what if Tom had to come back to his dormitory for some reason and eavesdropped on their conversation? "Let's talk a walk around the grounds."

Faye gave her a sour look. "But it's so cold out…"

"We're going out to the greenhouses for Herbology anyway," Rose rolled her eyes.

"Well be that as it may, I'd like to minimize the amount of time I'm outside in this awful cold as much as possible...I haven't been ill once this winter and I don't plan to start now. Especially not with the Sweethearts Ball next week!"

"Don't be a baby, it's not _that_ cold and if you get sick I'll fix you a Pepperup Potion. Come on." Rosemary pushed her seat away from the table and stood, Faye following begrudgingly behind her.

When they exited the castle and stepped into the cold wind, the blonde glared at her. "This had better be something _really_ juicy."

"I don't think you'll be disappointed…"

"Out with it then!" Faye wrapped her arms around herself and began shivering dramatically.

They began walking toward the lake and Rosemary glanced over her shoulder in paranoia of being overheard

"Tom and I…we, er...oh, Merlin…" She shook her head and looked out at the Black Lake.

Her friend looked at her in concern, clearly realizing just how distraught Rose was. "Want a smoke?" Faye asked her caringly.

Rosemary nodded and removed one from the pack that Faye held out to her. She lit it and they stood in silence for a minute or so. Finally, Rose said with a long sigh: "We had sex."

Faye's jaw dropped. "_What?_"

"The first batch of our potion was wrong, so we had to brew it all over again…We were up all night and this morning…I don't know, Faye, it just sort of happened…"

"Bloody fucking hell, have you gone completely mad?!" Her eyes were wide and she shook her head. "Shit, Rosemary. This is bad. Really bad."

"Thanks, I feel loads better now." Rosemary threw her cigarette on the ground and stomped it out, as she was far too stressed for it to have any noticeable impact anyway.

Faye was silent for a few seconds, but slowly seemed to regain her composure. "Well I'm sorry, but considering everything that's happened, I really did _not_ expect this…How did Warren take it? I'm guessing not all that well."

"I haven't told him yet."

The blonde raised an eyebrow. "Well, you should probably look into that and soon. I doubt Tom will be that patient about it, though now that you're back together hopefully he'll dial back the crazy a tad."

"But we're not back together."

"Oh, really?" Faye looked at her skeptically. "Are you sure _Tom_ sees it that way? I don't need to tell you just how possessive he is."

Rosemary's heart stopped. _Did_ he actually think that this meant they were back together? No, that was ridiculous – he couldn't just claim her by having sex with her. Didn't there have to be some sort of verbal confirmation if they were actually getting back together? Then again, she supposed Faye might be on to something: he was so extraordinarily arrogant that he might just assume she was his again. When dealing with Tom, normalcy very rarely applied.

"Do you really think that's true?" she asked apprehensively, her eyes wide.

"I don't know. I'll be sure to ask him during our next long, heartfelt talk." Faye rolled her eyes. "Here's the more important question: how do _you_ feel about it? Do you still have feelings for him?"

"No. Of course not!" Her voice was filled with indignation.

Faye gave her a skeptical look.

"I don't know," Rose said weakly as her thoughts from earlier that morning rushed back to her mind. "Maybe if he wasn't completely mad…"

Faye nodded. "That does tend to complicate things…"

"Please don't tell Adam or the others."

She gave Rose a half-amused, half- disturbed look. "Are you kidding? There is absolutely _no way_ I'm getting involved in this."

* * *

By the end of the day, after spending her full day of classes mulling over the situation, she knew what she had to do. Rosemary raised her hand to his door and knocked nervously. She waited, her heart pounding violently in her chest, as she heard him shuffling around in his room. Finally, his door opened. Her mouth went dry when she looked past him to the bed she had been naked on just hours earlier. "Hello," she greeted him, attempting to sound confident.

"Hello." He looked at her expectantly.

"Hi," she blurted out nervously.

He gave her an amused look and she blushed, realizing she greeted him twice.

He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, looking so attractive it was almost unfair. "I haven't got all day, Horton."

She nodded, her mouth still quite dry.

_You can do this. You _have_ to do this. _

"It's just – ah…I want to make sure that this morning…what happened between us…that you know it didn't mean anything."

For a moment, his face was unreadable. Then he smirked. "Of course it didn't. I know you want me, but don't be absurd."

'_Perfect. What a relief,' _she told herself. At least now she wouldn't have to worry about rejecting him again and dealing with a pissed off basket case. Plus, she had done the right thing…all she had to do now was tell Warren.

So why was crushing disappointment all she felt?

* * *

"_And that's when I know it's over. As soon as you start thinking about the beginning, it's the end." ― Junot Díaz_

* * *

**So, it seems like the overwhelming majority of you enjoyed that little (big?) twist last chapter.(; Hopefully, you'll enjoy the other twists along the way! **

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	63. Part II - The New Rosemary

The New Rosemary

_February 16, 1945_

It had been quite surprising that he and Horton hadn't been assigned chaperone duty – from what he heard, there had been a streak of the Head Boy and Girl getting picked to work the Hogwarts Annual Sweethearts Ball for the last twenty years or so.

His date was Katherine Gettes, a hazel-eyed sixth-year Slytherin who he had spoken to only once before asking her to the Ball. She was pretty and reminded him of Horton in a way with her red hair, though it was a few shades lighter than Rosemary's unique deep red. The prospect that her resemblance to Horton had something to do with his decision to ask her popped into his mind at some point, but he vehemently rejected the notion and concluded that it had far more to do with the fact that she seemed to be the least annoying of the Slytherin girls.

Tom spotted Rosemary instantly from across the room, though this was hardly a surprising occurrence: she was _always_ far too easy for him to spot. She looked as beautiful as always, in a long blue gown that he knew matched her eyes remarkably. All he could think about was how badly he wanted to slip her out of it and run his tongue along her sweet skin…

His fantasy came to a grinding halt when, unsurprisingly, he saw Cramer standing next to her.

Had she told him? To Tom's displeasure, they looked fairly happy which suggested she had not. Although, there was a strange, barely perceptible look on Rosemary's face that made him suspect that she was at least partially faking her cheerfulness. But he couldn't be sure: it was getting harder and harder for him to read her all the time.

She glanced over at him a moment later and he quickly turned to Gettes, smiled, and asked if she wanted anything to drink. It was time to play the part of the charming date, especially while he had Horton's attention. After her declaration that their carnal encounter had meant nothing whatsoever, he was eager to prove to her that he felt the same.

But Merlin, was it exhausting. After a couple hours of dancing and engaging in inane small talk with his date all while preventing himself from looking in Horton's direction again, he was actually somewhat relieved when Avery found them and half-yelled over the music: "We're gonna split and head back to the common room – you two want to join?"

"That sounds like fun," Gettes squeezed Tom's arm and looked up at him excitedly. He wondered when she would realize that this was both their first and only date.

They returned to the common room, where nearly a fourth of the Slytherin house was already in various stages of partying: drinking, snogging in corners, dancing to Rowle's new record player, and of course, taking the drug he now knew was brewed by Rosemary Horton. Many of them had shed their formal-wear for something a bit more casual; Gettes must have noticed, too, because she suddenly announced that she was going upstairs to get changed.

Tom fetched himself a full glass of scotch and made his way to a couch that had been pushed against the wall to create space for the makeshift dance floor, ready to assume his favorite partying pastime: observing the other partygoers for embarrassing moments that could serve as agents of future blackmail.

Though perhaps that would have to wait: he watched as Donohue –who had apparently gotten a head start on drinking when she left the Ball early with Lestrange and a few others to begin the after-party –began walking in a swerving path toward him holding a bottle of scotch. She stopped when she was a couple feet or so in front of him, tossed him the bottle, and plopped down on the couch next to him. "I thought you could use a drink." She gestured in clearly drunken, exaggerated way to the bottle.

"I already had one," he held up his glass.

"Yes, _one_. But after a few more your date will _really_ begin to resemble, well, you know…"

He looked at her first in complete disbelief at her gall and then in complete loathing.

Faye cracked a smile. "Don't be a wanker. I'm actually starting to like you, you know."

"Well, lucky me." He rolled his eyes, finished his glass, and poured another. Nothing spurred him to drink quite like a conversation with Faye Donohue. "I don't know what Horton told you, but I assure you that I am not interested –"

"I better go." She abruptly cut him off. "The new Rosemary looks jealous that I'm talking to you."

"Donohue," he said warningly, his blood boiling. It took all his self-restraint not to curse her into oblivion right then and there for her idiotic comments.

But she was gone a second later, stumbling through the crowd, likely to find Lestrange.

He was considerably drunk (a result heavily inspired by his conversation with Donohue) when Katherine slid into his lap later that night. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him.

Tom had to admit, in the dim light of the common room, she really did remind him of Horton. He closed his eyes and his mind suddenly flooded with memories of last year's Ball, when he and Rosemary had finally moved beyond friendship. He remembered everything about that night: her annoyance toward Faye, the moment Warren cut in to dance with her, leaving the Ball and impulsively bringing her to the Chamber of Secrets, kissing her on the stone floor, bringing her back up to his room and watching as she slid out of her dress…He could see it all so perfectly, as though she were right there in the room with him that very minute. And for a moment, he truly thought she was.

"Rose," he whispered, breaking the kiss just long enough to do so.

He felt her hands on his chest, pushing him away, and it was then that he realized what exactly had happened.

"You will repeat this to _no one_," he said warningly as he pushed her off of him, completely mortified at himself. "Do you understand?"

She nodded slowly and he watched her face carefully as a single tear slid down her cheek. Tom, satisfied that she wouldn't dare utter a word of this even to anyone, left the dungeons without another word.

He was ashamed; not because of Gettes, of course – to him, she was just another of his disposable fangirls – but because of the fact that he clearly couldn't even handle something as innocent as snogging without Horton completely taking over his mind. How could he, someone so adept at controlling his emotions under normal conditions, commit such a failure? A repeated one, no less.

He let himself into the corridor that led to the Head Boy's and Girl's dormitories through the Trophy Room just in time to witness Horton bring Cramer into her room. His lip curled in disgust.

_Now what?_

How could he sleep knowing that just one room away, Cramer was kissing her lips, sliding her out of her dark blue gown, and touching her body? Or, even worse, that they were possibly having it off?

Would she enjoy it as much as she had with Tom? Would she enjoy it _more_?

It was risky to stroll the castle so late, but he was far too repulsed by the idea of returning to his room at this point. His mind was spinning after everything that had happened in the last five minutes or so: he supposed he'd have to take his chances. Tom snuck through the corridors, unsure of where exactly his final destination would be. The alcohol from earlier along with the sight of Cramer and Horton made his stomach churn uncomfortably and suddenly all he wanted was some fresh air. Before he knew it –without much conscious thought at all, in fact –he had climbed his way to the top of the Astronomy Tower and hoisted himself onto the edge.

For winter, it was unseasonably warm. Or was that the scotch? He closed his eyes attempting to focus on the stillness of the air around him. It was futile, however – he couldn't get his mind to stop. Especially not with the muffled sound of music drifting from the open windows in the Great Hall constantly dragging him back to the present moment.

That night, his progress had once again begun to unravel. It was sparked from the moment he saw her in that beautiful dress and accelerated further when he noticed Cramer at her side…And then there were the memories of last year and saying her name out loud and the awful thoughts that had invaded his mind regarding all the things that Warren might be doing to her that very moment…

He wanted to strangle the thoughts of her and discard them from his mind forever. In fact, erasing his mind of her was a thought he had considered several times over the past few months, though he knew it was impossible: she was present so much of the time in the past year that he wouldn't be able to erase her without losing countless other important memories along the way.

Still, this desire had become more pertinent than ever after the late night brewing escapade of several days prior. When she had informed him that their sex had indeed been meaningless, it had been difficult to ignore the disappointment sinking inside him. Fortunately, when he finally had time to get some sleep and fully collect himself, he realized just how foolish it had been to be disappointed at all. In fact, the more he thought about it, he was baffled that he had considered mending things with her for even a moment. Why _would_ the fact that they had sex change anything? All it had proven was that she was just as much of a slag as he thought she was.

Besides, his lust-captivated, sleep-deprived state had caused him to overlook how much of a nuisance Horton had been to him the last few weeks. Didn't her opposition to him (not to mention her kindness toward Myrtle) indicate that she disapproved of his anti-mudblood philosophy and activities with the Knights? If that was true, they _certainly_ were not compatible. He was far too passionate about his ideals to waste his time on anyone that didn't share them.

Then again, it hadn't really felt like that and he knew that she was on his side of things. At least somewhat – it was how she was raised, after all. What it really felt like was that she was getting in the way of things just because she could. He certainly suspected that this had been the case with Dueling Club, the disbandment of which had been entirely her fault. How could he ever forgive her for that? Was it not enough to tear him apart in the first place by leaving him for Cramer? Was she going to keep going until she took everything from him? Come to think of it, perhaps sleeping with him had been an elaborate plan all along to torture him further…

And _he_ was supposed to be the cruel one?

Though if all this was true, he supposed he had to admire her nerve to some degree. She certainly was shaping up to be a worthy adversary.

His evening atop the Astronomy Tower had brought him some much-needed clarity. Suddenly, he realized that he had been focusing on the wrong thing all along: how had he ever hoped to forget her? No – what he needed was to continue reminding himself how much he loathed her. He needed to regain control and get her out of the way once and for all. He needed to win: enough was enough. He had stood by and allowed her to interfere with his plans and worm her way into his thoughts far too many times. Now he would take his revenge.

He had tried to be civil – now he would show her just how cruel he could truly be.

* * *

"_I taste you on my lips and I can't get rid of you so I say damn your kiss and the awful things you do. You're worse than nicotine." – Brendon Urie_

* * *

They rolled beneath the sheets, sweaty and grasping each other everywhere. He turned her onto her back and climbed on top of her, kissing her lips passionately. His lips trailed down her neck and ran his tongue along her collar bone as she felt a wonderful shiver throughout her body.

He played with her breasts and teased her opening with his erection. He stopped kissing her, gazing at her with his dark eyes. "And what should I do now, Miss Horton?"

"Fuck me," she could barely speak, delirious with pleasure.

"I'm not convinced." He leaned close to her and whispered this into her ear.

"Please, Tom. Please, fuck me."

He gave her a smirking, satisfied look and she dug her nails into his back, letting out a gasp as he pressed himself inside of her.

Rosemary woke to the feeling of fingers running through her hair. She shifted slightly and felt a warm body pressed up her back.

_Tom?_ Was she still dreaming?

She rubbed her eyes, rolled over, and was hit with an instant feeling of disappointment followed closely by immense guilt because of her subconscious fantasizing.

"Good morning," Warren smiled. He ran his hands over her skin, across her breasts, down her stomach, over her hip.

It was then that she realized: she was naked. Out of instinct, she pulled the blanket close to her, covering herself and preventing him from touching her bare skin further – she had never been naked in front of him until then.

Panic hit her. Had they done anything? She could remember very little of the night before, but she did recall arriving at the Ball with Warren, seeing Tom with his date, and instantly becoming an awful combination of jealous, agitated, and slightly depressed. Katherine Gettes. Rosemary was no longer the only redhead Tom fancied.

An hour or two into the dance, she had all but entirely given up on having a nice time with Warren and was about to feign illness when a crazy idea had entered her mind. She excused herself and quickly made her way to the second floor bathroom.

Myrtle greeted her "You can't even take a night off to go to the Ball? It's official, Horton, you're a workaholic."

"I'm not working," she said, though Myrtle was probably right about labeling her anyway – to keep her mind off Tom, she had been filling almost all her free time brewing for Jasper.

"What are you doing, then?" Myrtle asked suspiciously, floating behind Rose as she entered the stall where her brewing apparatus was hidden and removed the protective spells that kept things like Myrtle and falling dust particles from tampering with the potion. The batch wasn't fully finished, but she figured it was close enough to be safe.

Myrtle gasped and said in a scolding voice: "Rosemary! I can't believe you!"

"It's fine, Myrtle." She attempted to sound confident, though she couldn't really believe what she was about to do either. "This is the only way I'm going to get through this night."

"Trouble in paradise with Mr. Cramer?" the ghost suddenly perked up. She was sadistic that way, always delighting in Rosemary's troubles. Rose certainly didn't trust her enough to tell her anything specific – it seemed that just knowing _something_ was wrong was enough for Myrtle anyway. "Well I on the other hand have had a delightfully fun night! So far, I've scared away about twenty drunken bitches that stumbled in here on accident." Myrtle laughed in glee.

Yep, definitely sadistic.

"That's great, Myrtle," Rose said absentmindedly.

ECB. Ease. Clever. Bliss. But did she desire ease or bliss? Ease, definitely ease. Over the last week or so, she had experienced enough emotional stimulation to last for the next month and she worried the 'bliss' version might just amplify these feelings further.

She took one drop of the potion, said a quick goodbye to the ghost, and re-entered the Ball. The potion hit her almost instantly and she began to feel her emotions ebb away, a pleasant numbness spreading in their place. Her senses began to dull, too, and everything seemed to move a half-second or so slower. She spotted Warren where she left him, at a table with his Quidditch mates and their dates, and rejoined him.

Everything after that was a complete blur. Had the drug caused her to lose control and do something she would most definitely regret?

Rosemary ran a hand through her hair. She supposed there was only one way to find out: "Did we, er…"

"No," Warren laughed. "You brought me back to your room, stripped down to nothing, climbed into bed, and promptly fell asleep."

She nodded, a feeling of enormous relief washing over her.

"Though I sort of wished we did…" he chuckled again and leaned in to kiss her. She kissed him back, if only because her mind was so focused on her relief that she wasn't paying conscious attention to what she was doing.

Suddenly he pulled away from her, appearing rather nervous. "Look, Rose, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

"What is it?" It seemed twisted, but she truly hoped it was something as awful as what she had to eventually confess to him.

He smiled and cupped her face in his hand. "I love you."

Her heart stopped – that was not what she had expected. At all. That was it, this was her sign – she needed to tell him the truth. But how could she, when he was looking at her with such expectant optimism "I love you too," she suddenly heard come from her lips.

_No. No. No! _What was _wrong _with her? Why would she tell him that when she knew she didn't mean it? She knew she had to take it back – but how? It would completely crush him.

He was kissing her again and she felt entirely awful inside. Not only had she cheated on him, she had lied and said that she loved him. She cursed her decision to hold off on telling him the truth until after the Ball. It had been entirely selfish anyway, wanting to ensure that she had a date after the unexpected announcement that she was not assigned to chaperone duty.

She knew couldn't do this any longer – the guilt was consuming her, especially after what he had just told her. Rosemary sat up in bed, still clutching the covers to herself, and said: "Warren, I need to tell you something too."

He gave her a curious look and she took a deep breath. "Before I say anything, I just want you to know that I'm really sorry and I never meant to hurt you…" This much was certainly true. Though she had had her doubts about Warren as a boyfriend, he had been her friend for years.

"I have a feeling I'm not going to like where this is headed," Warren sighed.

"Probably not," she admitted.

He paused slightly before nodding. "Well, it's best to just get it out in the open then."

_He's ready. Just get it over with._

"Tom and I…I slept with him."

Her confession was met by pure silence and the expression on Warren's face before and after these words was precisely the same, as though he hadn't fully processed them. Rosemary looked away from his face and to the floor, knowing that she would be unable to bear the sight whenever reality finally sunk in for him. She felt like crying, but didn't. She didn't deserve to cry.

"I can't believe it." He sounded breathless, empty.

"Warren, I'm so sorry." She forced herself to look back into his distraught blue eyes. "I know you must hate me."

He said nothing as he climbed out of her bed and dressed. She had to admit, she was rather impressed with his calmness about it all. When he reached her door he paused any turned to look at her. "But I don't hate you, Rose. You know that. If I did, this would be far less difficult."

* * *

"-and then Markus was trying to peddle his drugs onto some third year girls and Becca was _pissed._ She thought he was being too flirty, but that's just sort of how Markus is…you know?"

Rosemary nodded absentmindedly, still dwelling on her confession to Warren that morning. She figured it was safe to say that things were over between them, which meant she needed to find a way to tell her parents without making them suspect that Tom had been the reason for the split. They would already be angry enough with her – the bit about Tom would surely be the push her father finally needed to marry her off to Keitch, his poorly aging business partner.

Faye sighed. "Alright, I know you're dying to know so I'll tell you: they were snogging for a bit a while everyone got back to the common room. Next time I looked for them they were gone."

"I don't have the slightest clue of who could be referring to," Rosemary said as her stomach sank. They both left? Together? She could barely handle the thought of Tom _kissing_ another girl…and now he had possibly slept with one? Even worse, she had the feeling that there was something Faye wasn't telling her about the night before.

"No, surely not. Certainly not the ex-boyfriend that you were shagging just last week." Faye's voice was coated in sarcasm and she threw in an amused snort for good measure. "By the way, how was your night? Drop the bomb on Warren yet?"

Rosemary felt a lump forming in her throat as she recalled the scenes from that morning. One minute Warren was looking at her with a slight smile after confessing his love and the next his face had fallen into devastation. And it was all her fault.

Her friend's eyes widened. "You did, didn't you? Oh, Rose…" Faye pulled her into an embrace. "What happened?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I told him and then he just sort of…left. He didn't say one way or another that we're through."

"Well there's still hope then!"

She nodded and forced a small smile, though this thought wasn't all that reassuring: Rosemary was only slightly upset that she had lost Warren as a boyfriend – the majority of her angst simply came from the fact that she had hurt him so profoundly.

* * *

"Don't you find it rather ironic that we were sent to confiscate the drugs _you _made?" Tom said snarkily as they strode down the empty corridor. "I mean really, Horton, don't you have anything better to do? Based on your behavior, I can't help but think you were a rather inappropriate choice for Head Girl."

His condescending tone and words predictably made her blood boil, but she was so emotionally fatigued from her confession to Warren earlier that morning that she lacked the zeal to create a snappy comeback.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him stifle a yawn and attempt to disguise it as a small cough. The same question that had plagued her all morning was brought to mind yet again at this indication of his apparent exhaustion: Had he slept with Katherine Gettes?

"Tired?" she asked, unable to remove the passive aggressive undertones from her voice.

"What was that, some pathetic attempt at conversation?"

She shrugged. "Just an observation." But then she continued, realizing the opportunity to get back at him that had just presented itself: "You're starting to have quite the reputation, you know – partying, girls...Hardly the sort of behavior one would expect from the Head Boy."

He let out a small laugh. "You speak as though you're the irreproachable picture of virtuous."

"_Excuse me_?" she asked him hotly as she abruptly stopped walking.

He didn't stop, but said over his shoulder: "You're a reasonably intelligent girl. I'm sure if you really put your mind to it, you'll understand."

Of course, this comment only hastened the angry flush appearing across her face. Rosemary had known what he meant and worst of all, she knew he was right…she was far from moral. And this begged the question: did that make her any better than Tom?

* * *

**Hey everyone! ****This chapter is dedicated to my good friend Queentakesjack. Hope you enjoyed it!(: **

**Thanks to those that have reviewed since the last update: Lady Ravanna, RainbowKitteh13, New Suit Blue Tie, Oksanallex, x2leoj, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, Queentakesjack, Alice Helena, professionalgricfers, guest6, calhounariel97, NanamiYatsumaki, gr8rockstarrox, and nine Guest reviewers! I'm absolutely loving all the support from the last couple of chapters. :D It really makes my day to read your comments. The site seems to be working again as far as displaying reviews, so I'll be replying to all of them in the coming days.**

**So I have some good news and some bad news. The bad news is that I started Winter Quarter this week, so it's back to the 'ol grind which means less time for writing. :( BUT! The good news is that my credit load is not nearly as demanding this time around, so I will probably be able to handle updating every 4-5 days instead of once a week (or longer...). Now that we're in a more exciting place in Part II, I think I'll have a bit more motivation to keep churning out chapters, too.(:**

**Next time, Tom will meet with the Knights and discuss new plans and Rose will spend the afternoon brewing with a certain not-so-friendly ghost. More R/T interaction awaits as well! **


	64. Part II - The Unforgivables

The Unforgivables

_February 23, 1945_

"Good evening, my brothers," he greeted the small crowd sitting in front of him.

"Good evening, Voldemort," they chanted simultaneously. Long gone were the days when they used anyone's actual name, even in the privacy of Avery and Lestrange's dormitory, though this was mostly out of habit. Tom had been dissatisfied with the idiotic codenames they came up with for themselves originally, so they revisited the topic during the next meeting and each of them (with the exception of Tom) chose a name of a famous Knight.

Also gone were any hesitations he had about addressing them on certain topics (particularly those related to Grindelwald); he knew he had the complete adoration and respect of each of them. His plan to relate to them while asserting his superiority had worked nothing short of marvelously.

He ran through his list of announcements, ending with: "I believe it's time to extend an invitation for membership to the other houses – no Gryffindor scum, of course. Over the next few weeks, I'd like you to keep your eyes open for others that may align with our mission."

From there, they would move on to spell practice. Following the shutdown of Dueling Club, a continuation of their dueling education became another key aspect of the Knights' meetings. Much like Dueling Club, Tom would often demonstrate a spell or two and divide them into pairs to practice. Tonight, however would be a bit different – a special treat for his loyal followers.

"I must admit," Tom began, "I have been quite impressed at the rate some of you have picked up the various offensive and defensive spells I taught you. Tonight it's time to try something a bit more advanced and far darker than you will ever learn in that pathetic-excuse-for-a-wizard's Defense Against the Dark Arts class." There was a rumble of applause and a couple of cheers. Tom waited patiently for them to finish before he continued. "Galeshin?"

Everyone watched as Dolohov stood and joined Tom at the front of the room, carrying a large metal cage that held two dozen dark brown rats from his aunt's shop, the Magical Menagerie. He set the cage of scurrying rodents on the table in front of Tom, who unhinged the cage and took one rat in his hand. "I trust that you are all familiar with the Unforgivable Curses?"

The room nodded back at him, their facial expressions ranging from slightly apprehensive to quite eager. "Good. While important to reserve until appropriate circumstances present themselves, the Unforgivables will be essential to master if we ever hope to defeat Grindelwald and his forces. I will demonstrate and each of you will follow. First, of course, is the Imperius Curse."

He set the rat down on the table and it began to run around in panic, as though it knew exactly what was going to happen next. Just before it hopped off the table onto the floor, Tom drew his wand and said, "_Imperio_."

The rat stopped abruptly. "The possibilities of the Imperius are nearly unlimited." Tom spun his wand in a circle and made the rodent chase its tail. Tom and Dolohov smirked as he made jump off the table and scurry around on the floor, hissing and lunging at the younger Knights members in the front row. He brought it back to the table and lifted the Imperius Curse. "Next is the Cruciatus…_Crucio._"

The rat began to writhe and squeak in pain, and Tom noticed one or two of the Knights wince slightly. Their expressions quickly shifted to a blank stare, however, likely in fear that they would lose face amongst the others. He lifted the curse. "I trust you all know what comes next…_Avada Kedavra_." The rat lay dead on the table, its tongue hanging from its mouth slightly from the torture it had endured just seconds before. Tom couldn't be more pleased with the awe-filled expressions of his followers. "Who would like to go next?" Several hands shot into the air. "Alright, Caradoc, let's see what you've got." He gestured to Rosier.

They slowly worked their way through the Knights members, each of them performing the three curses while Tom offered tips to improve their control and effectiveness of the spells. His followers seemed to be getting more zealous each time they saw the succession of curses, wonderstruck by their sheer power. Even though this was the overwhelming majority of the response, Tom couldn't help but notice the slightly queasy look on Abraxas Malfoy's face as he stared at the growing pile of dead rats.

Though there were plenty of Knights who had raised their hands to go next, Tom called Malfoy to the front of the room. A shadow of apprehension passed over Malfoy's face as he stood and walked slowly to the cage of ten remaining rats. Tom had always known that Abraxas was weak, and despite his devout loyalty to their cause, there was no room for weakness in a member of the Knights.

They watched in silence as he ran a hand through his white-blonde hair and took a rat from the cage. He set it down on the table: "_Imperio._"

"Good." Tom nodded as Malfoy made the rat walk around in a figure eight. "Next?"

He hesitated, his face pale, and glanced up at Tom, who gave him a look that very clearly said: _'If you do not perform the Cruciatus on this rat, I will not hesitate to perform it on _you._'_

"_Crucio_." His voice wavered, and as a result, the curse wasn't nearly as powerful as Tom's (though only one or two of the other Knights had come even marginally close to producing a curse as strong as those that Tom had anyway). However, Tom was pleased when he saw the slight expression of despair disappear from Abraxas' face and get replaced with apparent calmness. By the time he spoke the words '_Avada Kedavra_', Tom saw a significant amount of Abraxas' weakness disappear.

Such was the beauty of power.

Fridays were quickly becoming his favorite day of the week. With a full day of classes, his Knights meetings, and Tournament training, there was plenty to keep his mind off Rosemary Horton. Despite his ardent efforts to think of a fitting plot for his revenge on her, he had come up with little. He suspected that this lack of progress had something to do with his incessant mind-wandering whenever it came to her: he would be focused and determined one minute and the next he inevitably found himself replaying his memories of their recent sexual encounter (or sometimes fantasizing about new ones).

He knew he had to think of _something_, though. Perhaps he would sit down and converse with his diary that night after Tournament training – if anything could keep him focused, it was probably the past version of himself.

Though he still needed to allow Dumbledore to come to his Tournament practices sometimes to avoid suspicion, he had only provided the professor with half of the training dates. On the others, Tom snuck out of the castle through the Vanishing Cabinet that led to Borgin and Burkes and made his way to Diagon Alley. Fortunately, since the old fool had attended his practice last weekend, Tom was traveling solo that evening.

As always, Beaumont, Jennings, Fudge, and Tom met in The Leaky Cauldron for a quick drink before making their way to the large auditorium building in downtown London where Tournament competitors from all over Britain came to train.

"Where's Fudge?" Tom glanced at the wall clock and was surprised that the usually timely Leviticus had not yet arrived. "Is he meeting us at the training facility?"

"He's not coming," Raoul said slowly. "Sit down, Riddle."

Tom looked at Raoul and Jennings suspiciously. "What's going on?"

"There's been an…incident."

Had Fudge injured himself somehow, perhaps to the point where he could no longer compete in the Tournament? If so, this was nothing but good news to Tom. Not only would it mean one less competitor – Fudge tended to drag down the pace of their training sessions with Jennings.

"Altair Givense received a threat from Grindelwald himself earlier this evening: cancel the Tournament or suffer grave consequences."

Any of Tom's prior optimism about where this conversation was headed quickly dissipated. Altair Givense, President of the Tournament Administrative Board, had brought up the potential cancelling of the Tournament during the sponsor's meeting in December. Tom tried to sound nonchalant in his response: "He's bluffing. It's a power move, that's all."

"I'm not so sure about that." Raoul shook his head and then exchanged a brief look with Jennings. "I know how much the Tournament means to you, Tom…but it's reached the point that I need to pull our team out of it."

First Dueling Club and now the Tournament? In a flurry of enraged, devastated, and irrational thought, he wondered – was this just another of Horton's ploys? Was this some sort of practical joke to get back at him?

"You're kidding, right?"

Raoul sighed. "I don't know what to tell you, Tom. Given the political climate, it seems very unlikely that the Tournament will happen at all at this point. I'm certainly not prepared to have no return on investment…Besides, there is always next year."

"Coward," he spat, pushing his chair away from the table, his hands shaking he was so angry. "You'll pay for this, Beaumont."

"That went about as well as I thought it might," he heard Raoul mutter to Jennings as Tom stormed briskly out of the pub.

Tom fumed all the way back to Hogwarts, furious with the sponsor, but also more angry with himself than ever: he had been so distracted by Horton that he temporarily neglected his search for potential blackmail material to use on Raoul for this very situation. And now had lost a chance at the Tournament, a chance at redemption after his pitiful blunder last summer. He truly loathed them both in that moment, Beaumont and Horton.

Wait a moment – how had he forgotten? Horton had the key all along…now he just needed to get it out of her. While he had wanted to discover Raoul's secrets for himself, he supposed that desperate times called for desperate measures. In a stroke of sudden genius, it came together perfectly in his mind: a way to get what he needed from Horton, while simultaneously planting the seeds of his revenge.

* * *

Rosemary was in the middle of breakfast with Faye when she noticed Jasper's among the hundred or so others swooping down from the open windows of the Great Hall. Her heart pounded quickly: what excuse did she have to feed Faye that would explain why the older Donohue sibling was writing her? None.

"Dear Merlin. Look at Meghara Knox's outfit this morning – what is she thinking?" Rosemary gestured across the Great Hall to the Hufflepuff that had the habit of dressing rather eccentrically every day. Miraculously, this attempt at momentary distraction worked: Jasper's owl dropped the letter directly in front of Rose just as Faye turned her head.

She stuffed the letter into her bag and Faye turned back around, looking at her quizzically. "She _always_ looks like that."

"It's worse than usual today in my opinion," Rosemary sipped her tea as her heart rate slowly returned to normal.

She didn't dare read Jasper's letter until she returned to the safety of her own dormitory that evening:

_R –_

_Sales after the Ball were excellent, as you're probably well-aware already. With a few more tweaks we'll have created what is possibly one of the finest potions the wizarding world has ever seen. Great job so far…I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with next. Slug will have to watch his back or you'll be taking his job soon enough. _

_\- J_

That line near the end made her nervous: "I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with next." Rosemary had read through her brewing notes again and again during the past week, trying to find a way of improving the potion further, and she was fresh out of ideas. There were a few remaining erratic side effects of the drug that showed up in the Infirmary every so often that she had yet to tackle, but hadn't the slightest idea how to go about doing so. Even so, if she was going to make her deadline, she needed to begin a new batch that night. Perhaps something would come to her as she brewed.

Unfortunately, it was rather difficult to concentrate with Myrtle's perpetual whining. Rosemary was getting much better at tuning her out, but she knew that she desperately needed to find a better place to make the potion.

"If you arrive at a convenient stopping place, you might consider packing up," Myrtle said lazily.

Rosemary looked at her in confusion. "Why?"

"Someone's coming." Myrtle said this as though it was an obvious fact that Rosemary had just chosen to ignore.

"_What?_" Rose jumped to her feet and began gathering up the potion's ingredients as quickly as she possibly could, collecting them into their respective glass jars. "Can you at least try to stall them?" she hissed at Myrtle.

"Well, of course. Surely it wouldn't kill you to ask nicely, though."

"Myrtle, _go!_"

The ghost looked cheekily at her, but finally flew away toward the entrance to the lavatory. Rosemary had just levitated the cauldron into the nearest stall and carried the ingredients in with her when she heard Myrtle's squeaky giggle:

"You're every bit as handsome as I remember you, Mr. Riddle."

She was hit with an odd combination of relief and dread upon hearing this name. At least it wasn't a professor…but surely it was bad news if Tom was crossing into her territory.

Rosemary sighed and shouted, "It's okay, Myrtle. Let him in." She came out of the stall in which she had been hiding and began setting everything back up again that she just frantically packed away.

A few seconds later, Tom rounded the corner.

"We need to talk," he said crisply. "Now."

She stared at him blankly for a few seconds and then shrugged. "Well, you'll have to wait. I'm only halfway through the steps I need to finish today. The batch will be ruined if I stop now."

Tom strode closer to her, continuing to speak urgently: "I'm sure the school can survive for an extra day or two without your precious drug. Pack up your things."

"Either you can talk to me here or wait, but I don't have enough ingredients on hand to start all over again later."

"Don't try my patience, Horton," Tom eyed her warningly. "Let's go."

She stirred the cauldron, pretending that she hadn't heard him.

"_Incendio!_"

Rosemary jumped back from the cauldron as the potion inside suddenly burst into flame, quickly growing so hot that it began boiling over the edges and onto the floor of the bathroom. "What is _wrong_ with you?!" she shrieked. Myrtle gasped and then burst into a fit of high-pitched laughter.

He looked at Rose unapologetically as he tucked his wand away, grabbed her arm, and pulled her off the floor. "I said, let's go."

She glared intensely at him and tried to rip her arm out of his strong grip as he led her from the bathroom. He dragged her along through the corridors and up a couple flights of stairs to the floor that their dormitories were located on. Not even a minute later, Rosemary was swallowing nervously as he pulled her into his dormitory and she heard the door's lock click into place behind her.

"I need you to tell me everything you know about Raoul Beaumont. And MAGI."

Raoul's story came rushing back to the surface of her mind and she felt compelled to protect him from whatever devious thing Tom was up to this time. "No. If he wanted to tell you he would have already. Clearly, he doesn't trust you."

"Understand this, Miss Horton: I am not _asking_ if you'd wish to tell me. You _will_."

"No," she said defiantly. "It has nothing to do with you."

"There are many strategies I could employ," he continued on as though he hadn't heard her. "There's Legilimency of course, but that's no fun. I could use other magic – _darker_ magic. I can assure that you would regret such foolish stubbornness."

She knew almost instantly what specific form of dark magic he was referring to. "You wouldn't do that…" She tried to sound confident and call his bluff, but her statement ended up sounding more like a question than anything. He certainly hadn't hesitated in the case of Warren – but wasn't she different? Didn't he care about her at least a _little_?They had slept together just two weeks or so prior…

"Wouldn't I?" he looked at her pointedly. Of course he would. He would get what he wanted out of her and erase her memory of the entire incident so she couldn't turn him in. Her uneasiness must have shown because a devious smirk suddenly appeared on his face and he said, "Now, it doesn't _need_ to come to that…you could just cooperate, but that seems rather unlikely. Or perhaps we could negotiate a mutually beneficial arrangement."

It was obvious that he was getting what he wanted, regardless of whether or not she actually elected to tell him. With this in mind, she supposed it was in her best interest to opt for the agreement – surely this was a far better option than being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. "What did you have in mind?

Tom's voice was smooth as silk when he responded: "Well, your boyfriend is clearly incapable at fulfilling certain needs of yours…"

"Unbelievable. You are so ridiculously full of yourself that I can hardly comprehend how your head is capable of fitting in this room." She didn't bother to inform him that she and Warren had split, mostly because she still didn't know for sure if they actually had.

Tom stepped close to her and brought his hand to her face. His fingers lightly brushed her cheek before trailing down her neck and over her chest and hip, before coming to rest on the front of her thigh, just below the hem of her skirt. His voice was low and seductive when he brought his lips close to her ear and said "Really? You don't want this at _all_?" As he spoke, his long fingers slipped under her skirt and lightly brushed against the bottom of her panties.

"No," she told him, but made no attempt to move. She had been so angry with him minutes before, for ruining her potion and dragging her along to his room in impatience, but it had all but completely escaped her mind with his body so close to hers and his fingers softly tracing her body.

"Are you sure?" A tiny moan escaped her lips when he slipped his fingers inside the fabric and began playing with the natural folds of her bare skin.

She closed her eyes, wondering how so many details of a single person could be so intoxicating: his scent, his confident, silky voice, his teasing touch…and on and on and on. Perhaps she should just assume that she and Warren were over – she _had_ cheated on him after all and she couldn't exactly expect him to forgive her for that…

He was still stroking her when she answered: "In addition to this, I certainly expect that you replenish each of the potion ingredients you wasted…"

"Fine. Now tell me." He smirked, clearly pleased with himself. It made her loathe herself briefly, knowing that her weakness had only indulged his ego and arrogance, in addition to the fact that she had so quickly abandoned her fury toward him.

Rosemary walked past Tom and sat on his bed. "I don't know where to begin…It was one of the most depressing stories I think I've ever heard."

"Your personal sentiments are not necessary for my purposes," Tom said as he picked up a piece of parchment and a quill. "Begin."

She sighed. "Well, he worked at MAGI…the Head of something in safety…"

"Head of Regulatory Affairs and Product Safety," Tom said impatiently.

She nodded. "That sounds right. He had a wife, too…and a son."

"Interesting." Tom raised an eyebrow in apparent surprise. "Names?"

"I-er…Marcy, I think? And his son…Mark? No, that isn't right…Mathias." Rosemary was taken aback by his formality. "They both died about a decade ago. There was a tragic accident with a MAGI product that was supposed to be meant for children. Raoul hadn't signed off on it, but the company decided to test it anyway. They chose a nursey school to test it in – the same one that Mathias attended. I don't think that Raoul believes it was by coincidence, either. It's so fucked up…" She felt herself getting choked up just thinking about the whole thing again. "They offered him a significant sum of money if he kept his mouth shut about everything – if he didn't take it, they would have framed him for the entire incident. Ever since then, he's been on a mission to destroy MAGI. That's the whole reason he decided to become a sponsor for the Tournament – the connections, the potential information he could gain. Everything he does is to work toward his goal of taking down the company – even the whole alcoholic bit is just part of his persona so he seems unassuming and trustworthy."

Tom had stopped writing long before she finished speaking. He stared at her rather blankly and she wondered if learning Raoul's story had impacted him somewhat emotionally. Did he actually have a conscience?

She heard the lock slide out of place and the door swung open. "The reward for your cooperation will have to wait." Suddenly, Tom was putting on his winter coat and gesturing to the open door. Rosemary followed him into the corridor, a feeling of dread and guilt billowing inside her as she watched him walk briskly away from her down the dark corridor – Tom Riddle was on a mission.

What had she done?

* * *

"_Like a drop of ink in water, the urge rushed to the surface and then slowly spread out and thinned until I was made slightly darker by it." ― Brielle A. Marino_

* * *

**Thank you to my lovely reviewers: Oksanallex, x2leoj, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, professionalgricfers, Alice Helena, Lady Ravanna, Queentakesjack, RosiePosie15, marly4077, and five Guests!**

**I'm curious about what you all think Tom's plan for revenge on Rosemary might be! Next chapter - Tom confronts Raoul about what he's learned and Rose gets some unexpected news from her parents. **

**Thanks so much for reading!(:**


	65. Part II - A Win-Win

A Win-Win

_February 24, 1945_

Tom knocked sharply on the door to Raoul Beaumont's London brick townhouse. He was still in shock somewhat about everything Horton had told him, but mostly he was just surprised that someone as inconspicuous as Raoul had been hiding something so undeniably interesting the entire time they had known each other. Tom had to admit, Raoul's story intrigued him, the potential conspiracy that led to the death of his family, the concept of revenge.

Raoul answered the door, looking groggy. "It's one in the morning, Riddle."

Tom wasn't interested in beating around the bush: "Put the team back in the Tournament, or I'll tell the executives at MAGI everything you've been up to."

Beaumont looked at him blankly for a few seconds and then slowly opened the door a bit wider. "I suppose you should come in."

Tom followed cautiously behind the sponsor as they stepped into his house, ensuring that his wand was in easy reach in case Raoul tried anything. He led Tom into the sitting room and poured himself a glass of Firewhiskey while offering Tom one as well. He shook his head.

After a long drink from the glass, Raoul said: "So…you and Rosemary spoke, then."

"Yes."

"How did that go? Does that mean what I think it means?" Suddenly, there was a mischievous gleam in Raoul's eyes.

"What? _No_." Tom gave him an incredulous look. "_That's _what you're concerned with right now?"

Raoul smirked. "I knew she'd tell you eventually. Though I'm impressed that she held out this long."

"Miss Horton is quite adept at keeping secrets," Tom said half-bitterly, mostly thinking about how she had misled him about her feelings for Cramer and his suspicions that she had yet to tell Cramer about her infidelity.

Raoul gave him a strange look, but changed the subject: "I also knew you would come here eventually and hold this over my head. I've been watching people for years, Tom. I see certain things in you. In fact, I believe that I know you better than most other people might. I knew that this information would be too good for you to pass up if you ever found out about it – hell, if I was in your place, I would be doing the same thing."

Was that true? Had Tom been _that_ obvious? Then again, he supposed that Raoul had experienced more of the range (albeit a slim one) of his emotions than most others, likely second only to Horton. Perhaps it wasn't that far off to assume that Raoul indeed knew him quite a bit better than those Tom interacted with on a daily basis.

"Really, you remind me of myself in a way: your agenda is the only one that matters and you don't stop until you get what you want. That's not entirely a bad thing, though I suppose it can quickly devolve. Unforeseen consequences tend to arise when your actions are driven by primarily selfish reasons. It can work out sometimes, however…" Raoul seemed to realize he was rambling and slowly trailed off. Tom didn't take much notice however; he was too busy being rather stunned at the man's quite accurate perceptions of him.

"I didn't even send word to Thibault in Sponsor Relations," Raoul continued with a sigh, picking up a piece of parchment containing the composed letter from the coffee table and showing it to Tom. "I figured you'd find a way to stop me."

"Why did you even try to tell me that you were pulling us from the Tournament, then?"

"Several of the competitors on our team informed me they were canceling their contracts with me this morning – I figured it was worth a shot on the off-chance you didn't fight me on it. Plus, it's quite entertaining to see you all worked up." Raoul's face split into his irritating, toothy smile.

Tom shot him his most intense glare.

"I'm joking, Tom. I, not unlike yourself, often act according to my own self-serving agenda. I'm not sure when it finally clicked, but at some point I realized how valuable an ally you could be. You can go places I can't, you're one of the most remarkably clever people I've met – and strategic, too. But I knew I couldn't just ask for your help…I made a promise to myself long ago that I would not involve anyone without their full awareness of what they were getting themselves into. As you chose to involve yourself by actively digging into my past, I can absolve myself of any potential guilt. It's a win-win, see?"

So the entire thing had been a ploy to push Tom into discovering Raoul's story? To get him on board with his plans to take down MAGI? Once again, Tom was admittedly quite impressed with his sponsor that evening. Still, as intrigued as he was by Raoul's intentions, what would be in it for him if he decided to help (besides satisfying his curiosity on the matter)?

Tom held up his hand. "Hold on now – I never agreed to help you, you know…In fact, _I'm _the one with the information you want kept a secret. You should be the one placating _me_."

Raoul smirked. "Hear me out; if anything I believe I know about you is correct, then I think you'll agree to help me."

Tom looked at him impatiently and Raoul began to speak:

"I've suspected for quite some time that Grindelwald has several allies within MAGI. They'd have a lot to gain, you see, if wizards took supremacy over muggles – an enslaved, unpaid workforce for their manufacturing centers, for one. So, when an informant notified me that Grindelwald's attention would soon be turned to Britain, where MAGI's headquarters reside, I figured it was time to leave Paris and move to London. And then our old friend Dumbledore enters the picture. Now, we know that he's obviously involved with the Ministry and Hogwarts in terms of safety planning. However, we also know that he's been working as a consultant in Spell Mechanics for MAGI." Raoul stood and began pacing across the sitting room floor, in front of the fireplace. Tom had never seen him so engaged and contemplative. "Of course, what I want to know is: what does this mean? I learned long ago that there is no such thing as a true coincidence. Does the Ministry suspect that MAGI is involved with Grindelwald as well and placed him there as a spy? Did MAGI bring him on to keep a closer eye on the Ministry, hopefully learn something they could relay to Grindelwald? Is Dumbledore somehow involved – a double agent for Grindelwald's side, so to speak?"

Tom was sitting on the edge of his seat, absorbing every word that Beaumont said; his mind was spinning. In that moment, he probably respected the man more than ever before. Beaumont had always been mysterious, but even Tom had to admit he was impressed.

"This is where you come in, and I have a feeling you won't object to this particular request: take an afternoon or two and spy on Dumbledore for me."

Tom sat there for a few seconds, attempting to process everything Raoul had just told him and his thoughts on the whole matter.

For him, things had changed quite a bit over the last month or so. He was beginning to truly enjoy the camaraderie of the Knights and his confidence as a leader had grown exponentially. Tom was actually beginning to wonder: could he someday make his political ideals reality? He no longer wanted to defeat Grindelwald for the sake of the Tournament, though this was of course still a factor – he wanted the victory for the pride, the power, and the reverence that was sure to come with it. Wizard-kind all over the world would praise his name and respect his opinions. He would be unstoppable.

And here, out of seemingly nowhere, was an actual opportunity to bring down Grindelwald – and maybe even Dumbledore, too. Apparently Raoul had been right about him: this was an opportunity Tom simply could not resist. A chance to discover Dumbledore's secrets and, if Beaumont's last theory was correct, initiate his downfall as one of the most abhorrently respected members of wizarding society? Of course he was willing to help.

"What have you found out so far?"

Raoul frowned slightly. "Admittedly quite little. He is a very difficult bastard to read."

'_Tell me about it,'_ Tom thought.

Then he realized: "This is why you were discouraging me from sneaking out of Hogwarts, wasn't it? So Dumbledore would be around more?"

Raoul nodded.

He really _had_ underestimated the sponsor.

"I could have been spying on the pathetic git ages ago, you know."

"Yes, well, my agenda isn't the only one involved and I wanted to make sure that yours wouldn't somehow interfere. I also wanted to make certain you were capable of controlling yourself."

"Of course I am," Tom said in irritation, his temper already rising to the surface.

Raoul looked at him knowingly.

"I wouldn't involve you in this if I didn't think you could handle yourself – I mean, if things went south, you could certainly outduel any of them. But if you think Grindelwald is a monster –"

"I think Grindelwald is pathetic," Tom interrupted firmly.

Raoul smirked. "Well, he is a Cornish Pixie compared to the pack of wild Nundu that is MAGI. You need to tread carefully with this work, Tom."

He thought this might be a bit of an exaggeration – he wasn't afraid. Even so, he kept his comments to himself. There were a thousand questions bubbling to the surface of his mind, but one seemed to burn a little brighter than the rest:

"Why did you tell Horton? Weren't afraid of getting _her_ involved, were you?"

The sponsor raised an eyebrow at him and tossed him an amused look. "Are you jealous you weren't the first to know?"

"No," Tom rolled his eyes, annoyed at both Raoul's comment and the fact that he had evaded the question.

"I have my reasons, none of which concern you," he told Tom.

_What reasons? _He knew this would certainly continue to eat at him.

A few seconds of silence passed between them before Raoul said: "You must give me your word that you will not act on whatever information you find before consulting me first."

Tom took a moment to consider this, knowing that it would be damn near impossible for him not to act if he discovered something truly incriminating about the man he loathed more than anyone else in the world, but he finally nodded. "You have my word."

* * *

Rosemary awoke that morning to a soft knock at the door. "Coming," she groaned quietly, wondering what sort of sinister person might wake her at this hour.

What time was it, anyway? She glanced at the clock on her wall while she dressed and was surprised to see that it was already ten – she had slept right through breakfast. Well then. Apparently whoever had woken her was actually entirely justified.

Rose opened the door to find no one there, but at her feet sat a small neatly wrapped parcel stamped: _Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary_ and she could see the corner of an envelope sticking out beneath it.

She knew right away what the package contained; Rosemary had slipped the list of ingredients Tom owed her for the ruined potion under his door last night before she went to bed. She opened it anyway to confirm that everything was there, and it was. But how had he gotten it all so quickly? How did he get out of the castle? And, perhaps most importantly, where had he gone last night after she told him Raoul's secret?

He never ceased to be mysterious – that was for sure.

The letter, however, was not from Tom. She turned the envelope over in her hand and recognized her father's handwriting in the golden ink immediately. One of the school's house elves must have brought it to her room after she missed breakfast:

_Dear Rosemary,_

_According to the _Prophet_ (though with Ulrich Pitts writing the Sports and Games sections they are hardly an authority on the matter), the upcoming match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin is expected to be one of the best of the year. I'm sure it comes as no surprise that your mother and I are planning to visit the school to attend! Perhaps I could pull a few strings with Headmaster Dippet and after the match, your mother and I could take you and Warren to dinner in Hogsmeade to celebrate the victory that Ravenclaw surely has coming. How does that sound?_

_See you tomorrow._

_Love,_

_Dad_

As opposed to what her father had apparently expected, the news certainly _had _come as a surprise. Her heart sank. How was she going to tell her parents that she and Warren were through?

Maybe she didn't have to say anything at all. She and Warren hadn't exactly talked things out…he had never _confirmed_ that they were actually over. Perhaps she could just lie and claim that he was busy after the match.

No. How could she possibly do that to Warren? Hadn't she put him through enough already? The last thing she wanted to do was involve him in another of her lies.

Thankfully, she had a day ahead of her in Hogsmeade with Faye and Becca to take her mind off this dilemma, at least for the time being.

She met the two of them outside near the school gates. Thanks to the ever-increasing threat of Grindelwald, everyone was required to travel in groups of three or more to the small town. Rosemary, Faye, and Becca planned to set out early, hoping to make the most of what would likely be their last trips to Hogsmeade if Dippet continued to follow Dumbledore's strict safety protocols. This meant beating the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh-years to The Three Broomsticks.

"It's good to see you, Becca," she smiled at the raven-haired Slytherin. It was true – as long as it had taken Rose to warm up to the girl Markus had cheated on her with, it was far past her now. The weeks she had gone without speaking to any of her old friends had made her far more appreciative of all of them, including Becca Orion.

"Mhm."

Rosemary was surprised at the lackluster greeting, especially given the fact that it was coming from someone who had spent the better part of the year prior trying to get into Rose's good graces. Although she was curious about Becca's seemingly chilly demeanor, she forced it from her mind – there was no time for such trivial concerns when she had to worry about her parents coming tomorrow afternoon or Warren or what Tom did with the information she gave him.

However, it continued to bother her as they made their way into Hogsmeade. As they chatted, Rosemary couldn't help but notice that Becca responded easily to Faye, but reserved only one word comments for anything that Rose said.

As soon as they were seated at The Three Broomsticks and received their drinks, her mind was pulled in a completely different direction when Faye casually asked: "So, are you and Tom sleeping together? I mean regularly, now that Warren's out of the picture?"

Rosemary, who had just taken a sip of her drink, nearly spewed it across the table. "_Faye_," she hissed, looking around frantically to make sure no one had heard, especially Tom and his group of Slytherins that had arrived shortly after them and were being seated on the other side of the bar. "_Shut it!_"

"Oh, come on, it's all in good fun. We all know you're utterly mad for each other."

"That's not true," Rosemary said defiantly.

Regardless, she could no longer deny her feelings for him. The sensation was always there, even when she was angry with him, giving her flutters in her stomach and raising her body temperature a few degrees every time he was near. Sometimes, when she let her thoughts wander off a bit too far, she even found herself wondering what it might be like if they got back together. Before, they had been nothing short of perfect for each other, but would that change based on what she now knew about him? He was unpredictable, not to mention rather violent. Though she believed that he still held a certain tenderness for her (at least in a purely sexual sense), she wasn't sure if she could ever fully trusted him. What would happen every time she did something he didn't like? Would he ever become violent toward her?

And then there was the other question: did he still have feelings for her? Or did he simply view her as another lover? She might have realized over the last couple of weeks that she still had feelings for him, but that certainly didn't mean they were reciprocated. He _had_ agreed with her quite quickly that their sexual encounter had been meaningless.

But even if he did still feel something for her, what would it matter? Their relationship was destined to fail from the get-go, thanks to her parents' austerity. She could deal with her parents being angry about her breakup with Warren, but could she actually deal with them completely disowning her? While they had never been close, Tom's shift in personality had forced her to consider the future more than she perhaps had before. Wouldn't she regret losing her family? What if their relationship exploded and she had nowhere else to go?

As though Faye could read her thoughts, she smiled and said: "Right, Rose. You keep telling yourself that."

"I wish you'd just stop wasting time and get back together with him already," Becca snapped and pushed her chair away from the table. "I have to use the ladies."

Rosemary watched in confusion as she stormed away from the table. "What's gotten into her lately?"

Faye rolled her eyes. "I have no idea. Well, I do, but it's absolutely stupid. She thinks Markus is envious of Tom's living up the single life and feels like he's missing out. I think all this talk of you cheating on Warren reminds her that Markus cheated on you with her and might be up to the same again with some other girl."

Rosemary sat for a couple of seconds in shock. Faye was right, that _was_ a stupid thing for Becca to be upset with her about. Even if what Becca thought about Markus was true, it certainly wasn't Rosemary's fault – if anyone but Markus', it was Tom's. She finally managed: "I don't know, I thought Markus really cared about her. I'm sure they'll work things out. And what do you mean '_all this talk_'?"

"How do you possibly expect me to keep all of your juicy drama to myself? It was all I could do to only tell Becca. I'm surprised the whole school doesn't know by now anyway – Warren must be a true gentleman, not wanting to ruin your entire reputation and all after what you did to him. But who knows, maybe it was the best mistake you ever made. Speaking of…Don't turn around, but your dirty little secret is looking your way."

She blushed, feeling his eyes on the back of her head, as she remembered once again that he had yet to fulfill the rest of his side of their agreement. Admittedly, she rather looking forward to the moment he chose to do so.

In a way, it made her feel dirty and twisted that she had traded information for sex. Wasn't she better than that? But Rosemary knew deep within her that this was overly optimistic: she had already come to the conclusion that she was just as twisted as Tom, after all. Though she suspected she had a bit more of a conscience about it; Rose couldn't imagine using the Cruciatus on anyone, unlike Tom. Then again, was cheating on someone really any better? Wasn't that essentially emotional torture as much as the Cruciatus was physical torture? She, like Tom, had simply given into her desires far too easily. And she had done it again, selling out Raoul for another night-long fling.

Though the guilt ached at her, it was in truth a rather dull ache that was considerably displaced by her excitement. She didn't have a clue when Tom intended to reconvene and finish what he started, but she hoped it might be soon. Just in case, she had worn her favorite lingerie under her clothes that day and perhaps she would wear another of her best sets tomorrow, too. In fact, she desperately hoped it would happen tomorrow, after her parents left. It would give her something to take her mind off the certain version of hell that would be let loose on her when she informed them about her split with Warren.

"Oh. No, nevermind – he's not looking at you. He's glaring at me."

"What? Why?" Rosemary couldn't help but feel at least slightly disappointed that Tom's attention hadn't been on her.

"I may or may not have called Katherine Gettes 'the new Rosemary' after the Ball last week."

"_What_? What in the hell is wrong with you?!"

"I was really, really drunk alright? And, let's face it – I was right. He asked her for a reason and you know that just as well as I do."

"How can you be so casual about it? You're the one who spent weeks ignoring me because you were all terrified of him – now you're giving him shit at parties?"

She shrugged. "He's mellowed out quite a bit, especially since you two have been getting it on now and again."

"Not 'now and again' – once," Rosemary corrected.

_Well, at least for now…_

She couldn't help but wonder: did she really have that much influence over him?

"Or maybe he's just happy with the Knights. Markus says their meetings have been going really well."

"The Knights?"

"Damn my big mouth. Yes, that's what they call themselves: the Knights of Walpurgis. Dolohov thought of it apparently."

"The Knights of Walpurgis." She laughed quietly. "I like it, it's clever."

Becca rejoined them at the table, which brought their conversation to an abrupt halt. Rosemary thought of bringing up Markus to Becca and assuring her that Markus wouldn't dare to fool around behind her back, but instead found her mind wandering:

Was what Faye said true? _Did_ Tom ask Gettes for a reason? A reason that potentially had something to do with his feelings for her?

For the remainder of their afternoon in Hogsmeade, Rosemary couldn't help but notice that smiling had become far easier.

* * *

She had returned to her dormitory for the evening when she heard the second knock on her door that day. Her heart quickened, sure that it was Tom. Rosemary dashed across her bedroom to the bathroom, where she spritzed a bit of perfume on her neck, and quickly checked her hair in the mirror before finally opening the door.

"Warren?"

"Evening," he greeted her. "Can I talk to you for a bit?"

"Of course," she nodded, standing aside to let him in and then closing the door behind him.

For a few long seconds they just stood there, in the middle of her bedroom, avoiding each other's eyes. But soon, she couldn't take it any longer: "Warren, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you…"

"I know." He nodded and gave her a small, sad smile.

"How have you been?"

"Oh, you know. I've been better." He smiled again, though it seemed a bit less forceful than the first time. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately."

She nodded. "Me too."

He moved to sit on the edge of her bed and she joined him. "Rose, I can't lie…I was very upset when you told me…well, it doesn't matter. But…I love you and you told me you loved me too."

How could she forget? It was certainly not her finest moment, mistakenly telling him that she loved him right before divulging her dreadful secret regarding Tom. Still, though the guilt continued to eat her alive, she was happy that Warren had come to talk to her. She doubted he would ever be willing to salvage their relationship (which, in some ways, wouldn't necessarily be the worst thing), but perhaps rekindling their friendship was on the horizon at least.

What she wasn't prepared for, however, was what Warren said next:

"Based on that alone, I think it's worth another go."

"Really?" she asked him in genuine shock.

He nodded. "Just…please promise you won't see him again." Rosemary watched as his eyes wandered up to her door, surely contemplating the fact that Tom's door was just on the other side. Obviously you have to work together in your Head Girl duties…and Potions…but other than that…"

Rosemary could tell how difficult it was for him to talk about, a strange sight to observe with the usually confident and self-assured Warren. She placed a hand on his arm. "I won't. I promise."

Her heart deflated a few seconds later when the implications of her promise truly sunk in. No more Tom. Was this just another big mistake?

She supposed she would have to take that chance. He found it in his heart to forgive her for something unforgivable. Surely she could find it in herself to give him a real try this time: she owed at least that much to him. But could she really, truly ever grow to love him?

No. At least not in the same way that she had loved Tom. Would she ever love _anyone_ as much as she had loved Tom, though? It sounded awful, but wasn't Warren the best of the subpar as far as this went? Wouldn't she rather be with him than end up completely alone (or, more realistically, allowing her parents to choose for her)?

She pulled him into an embrace. Even though she wasn't completely thrilled to be dating him again, at the very least she had made up with one of her oldest friends.

"My parents are coming to the match tomorrow," she told him. "I don't know if it's too soon – I mean, if you still need some time and whatnot that's fine…But do you want to join us for dinner in Hogsmeade?"

"That sounds great. I'd like things to go back to the way they were – pretend this entire thing never happened."

It was generous, she knew. Yet she couldn't remove all of the cynicism from her voice when she echoed him: "Sounds great."

* * *

"_It's never the changes we want that change everything." ― Junot Díaz_

* * *

**So I just spent my night watching _Dogma_ while consuming far too much alcohol and Ben and Jerry's. I know the news this morning was a devastating hit for millions of people, myself included. I think everyone in the HP fandom felt like they lost a family member today. It is a truly beautiful thing that Alan Rickman touched so many people's lives. RIP to the King of dripping-with-sarcasm wit. **

**Anyway...before I start crying...**

**Thanks so much for reading! ****And thanks to Oksanallex, Alice Helena, Blerb, x2leoj, RainbowKitteh13, gr8rockstarrox, Zircon Iris, Lady Ravanna, marly4077, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, RosiePosie15, Queentakesjack, and four Guest users for your reviews as well!**

**One quick announcement - I've decided on a final face claim for Tom! Check him out, along with Rose, other characters, quotes, and pics that have inspired my writing at www._ pinterest (dot com)/MsRoseHorton. _**


	66. Part II - Obliviate

_Obliviate_

_February 25, 1945_

It was Sunday afternoon and she was stuck sitting with her parents in the visitors' stands for Ravenclaw's match against Slytherin. Though she was rather dreading spending several hours in embarrassment, listening to her father lead the cheering effort among the other Ravenclaw parents, it was probably for the best anyway; Faye was surely sitting with the Slytherins and Rosemary knew she wasn't welcome there anymore. Especially not with Tom Riddle in attendance. Nor was she really welcome with any of the Ravenclaws, except for Warren's friends, who were all on the field with him playing.

For a while, Slytherin and Ravenclaw were neck and neck. One team would score, then the other. Her father was on the edge of his seat, like usual, and Rosemary couldn't care less…like usual. Her mother was pretending to pay attention, but Rosemary could tell by her increasing chattiness that she was getting bored as well. She went on and on about the latest gossip in her circle of pureblood wives. Markus' mother had just spent a ridiculous amount of money to have a series of wrinkle-removing charms administered by an outpatient Healer at St. Mungo's; Mrs. Rosier had caught her husband in an affair with a seventh-year girl at Beauxbatons. The only bit of news that she was even remotely interested was the fact that Faye's mother had complained about not seeing Jasper since Christmas…

Rosemary knew why, of course, though she would never say: he was constantly busy, working overtime at the apothecary and procuring the ingredients for their joint venture.

Unfortunately, this reminded her mother of a topic Rosemary had hoped they could stay far, far away from: "Oh, I was so happy to hear about Faye's engagement! The Donohue's must be so proud."

_No. _Literally the last thing she needed was for her mother to get stuck on the subject of marriage.

"Why?" Rosemary snapped automatically. "Getting engaged isn't that remarkable of an accomplishment."

"I'm sure your time will come soon, darling." Her mother patted her hand sympathetically. Rose ripped it away and Evelyn looked at her in surprise. "What's wrong – is it your monthly?"

"You guessed it," Rosemary sighed wearily. Some arguments were just not worth starting.

As promised, her father had convinced Dumbledore and Dippet to bend the rules and allow Rose and Warren to come out to dinner with them. When the match finally finished, some two hours after her irritating conversation with her mother, they waited outside the Ravenclaw changing room for Warren to take a quick shower before heading to Hogsmeade together.

After greeting her parents, Warren winked discreetly at her and she hadn't a clue why. She gave him a puzzled look, but he offered no explanation, gazing at her in amusement instead.

"Quite a strong performance, Warren," her father beamed at him and clapped him on the back proudly. Rosemary had to admit, her father was right: though she could barely stand the sport, it was always impressive to watch the effortless way Warren dove through the air.

They were seated at The Three Broomsticks and she watched Warren and her parents chat through dinner, about Comet and Quidditch and the classes he was taking; she found herself chiming in only when she was actually expected to say something.

It was during this time that she realized a sad truth: Warren got along better than her parents than she did. To her father, Warren was surely the son he never had but certainly wanted – someone who understood his passion for Quidditch.

"Professor Beery sent us a copy of the picture you two took at the Ball. It was so kind of him to do that for all the parents," her mother gushed as they were finishing dessert. "You two were such a sharp pair. I mean, truly, I can't imagine a better couple. Can you, Basil?"

He looked happily between Rose and Warren. "Certainly not."

First the engagement comment and now this…All of it was too much, too soon. And it wasn't just her own discomfort she was concerned with – surely Warren didn't want to hear about how perfect of a couple they were so soon into their attempts to recover their relationship from her tryst.

She took her napkin from her lap and folded it neatly onto the table in front of her while saying coolly: "I'm really not feeling well. Do you mind if we head back to Hogwarts?" She leaned over to her mother and whispered, "You know…my _monthly_ and all."

Her father glanced at his watch. "I suppose it is getting a bit late."

To her immense relief, her mother didn't attempt to extend their visit further. Rosemary and Warren said a quick goodbye to both of her parents as they arrived at the Hogwarts gate, where the school's caretaker, Cyril Swernty, was waiting to escort them inside.

"I hope you had a nice time," Rosemary said to Warren after her parents disapparated.

He gave her an amused look. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I was worried they would make you uncomfortable…after, well, you know…" she lowered her voice, not wanting Cyril to hear.

Warren took her hand and stopped. "Not at all. Like I told you yesterday, I just want to move past it."

She nodded and silence fell between them for the remainder of their trip back to the castle.

"Well, this is me," he said finally as they reached the staircase where the pathways to their respective dormitories diverged. "I suppose I'll see you later." Warren winked at her for the second time that evening and gave her a quick kiss before heading in the direction of the Ravenclaw common room.

What in the hell was that about? Was he just trying to be flirty and cute? Why did she feel like she was missing something?

This, along with the visit with her parents, was still on her mind when she opened her dormitory door and was alarmed to see Tom Riddle lounging on her bed, reading a copy of _Common Curses for the Cunning_. She almost laughed despite herself, knowing she would be unable to think of a more suitable piece of literature for him if she tried. He didn't bother to look up as he told her: "Your door-locking charms could use a bit of work."

She glared him in both irritation and complete disbelief at his nerve. Did he come over just to insult her? Finally, she managed, "It wasn't my best effort – I didn't actually expect anyone to break into my dormitory. What _exactly_ are you doing here anyway?" she demanded, though she was quite sure of the reason already. What he said next only confirmed her suspicions.

"A deal is a deal, Miss Horton." He calmly marked the place in his book, set it on her nightstand, and gave her an innocent look. Of course, she knew very well that he was anything but innocent.

"You can forget about it. Really." Her promise to Warren that she had made just yesterday was hanging in the back of her mind. She could be strong…she could resist.

"And then what – owe you a random favor? I'd rather not." He smirked and strode over to her. He appeared to be in a remarkably good mood and she couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with what she had told him about Raoul. She knew Tom well enough by now that whatever happened was for his own personal gain.

"We'll call it even if you tell me what happened two nights ago…" she suggested, hoping that changing the stakes might prevent her from truly testing her willpower.

Sadly, this option didn't appear to be in the cards for her. Tom let out a short laugh and said, "I don't think so."

He gazed down at her hungrily and it was then that it clicked in her mind: he wasn't just returning a favor – he _wanted _her.

Come to think of it, she really could use the stress relief after such a long day with her parents and all the talk of her and Warren's coupledom…

'_No! Don't be weak,' _she chastised herself.

Although, she _had_ agreed to it when she thought there was no way she and Warren would be getting back together, before she made him that promise. That made it a little more okay, didn't it?

'_What kind of ridiculous logic is that?!'_

If she did, could she live with the guilt? She couldn't imagine hurting Warren so profoundly twice. But that didn't stop her from wanting Tom, either. No, there was no way that she could tell Warren about it this time. He would never know – she could keep a secret. She had been keeping Tom's for months now; surely she could keep a few of her own. After all, it would never hurt him as long as he didn't find out about it…

'_Don't you dare...'_

And this would surely be the last time…

Tom kissed her forcefully, pressing her back against the door. He buried his hands in her hair and it was then that she began kissing him back. His fingers reached up to unbutton her blouse and slip it off over her shoulders while she got to work on his trousers.

Yes, he certainly wanted her. She could feel it in the way he kissed her, touched her; it was reminiscent of that same hunger she had seen in his eyes just a few moments prior. For one reason or another, this simple fact made her immensely happy.

He led her to her bed and told her to lie down. She did, and watched as Tom positioned himself between her legs.

_Oh my…_

He kissed the inside of her thigh before moving up and allowing his warm tongue to explore her. He sucked on her most sensitive area while his hands reached up to play with her nipples. Rosemary wrapped her legs around his head, writhing and moaning in pleasure. He had only done this to her once before, on the night of her birthday, when they were in Paris together for the Tournament. Just like the first time, she came quickly – and hard.

She was still recovering when he surprised her by getting started again. At first, she was so sensitive it was almost uncomfortable, but she allowed herself to get lost in the sensation. Rosemary reached down and held his head against her, just in case he had the sudden idea to stop. She already getting close when he slipped a finger inside of her, sending her irrevocably over the edge just a minute or so later. Again. Tom looked up at her, his eyes filled with nothing short of complete, arrogant satisfaction.

How could a person be _this_ good at pleasuring her?

And still, he wouldn't stop. She came. Again. And Again.

"Fucking hell," she panted after she climaxed the fifth time about forty-five minutes later, still shaking slightly. This last time, he had fucked her with his finger while teasing her nipples with his tongue.

She didn't even know that such a succession was possible before that night and though she had never felt more amazing, she was also completely exhausted. In a last-ditch effort, Rose reached down and ran her fingers over his length, hoping she might distract him from his apparent mission to render her unable to move. He exhaled in pleasure and closed his eyes momentarily, but quickly swatted her hand away.

"I could do this all night," he purred into her ear. He began playing with her throbbing southern regions once more. Her body was completely exhausted; she was too weak to lift an arm to stop him – her attempt at distracting him had used the remainder of her energy.

She was appalled at the pleading tone of her voice when she whispered: "Just fuck me, Tom."

"All you had to do was ask, you know," he smirked. She didn't believe _that_ for a second.

Tom stood, pulled her to him, and turned her so her feet were on the floor and she was bent over the bed. He really _was_ making sure they were even; this had always been her favorite position. She let out a small yelp when he pressed himself all the way inside her. His hands were on her hips, pulling her toward him with every thrust. His movements felt slow and deliberate at first, but he picked up the pace and began thrusting harder, faster. He had complete control over her. She found that submitting to him in this regard still turned her on to no end, rather surprising given the fact that she loathed him having power over her in essentially any other circumstance.

Although, he appeared to be quickly losing control. Over the sounds of her own moaning she could hear him: "You're so…you feel so…fuck."

She was so caught up in the sensations that she didn't even hear her door as it creaked open. "Rose…" The sound of her name pulled her abruptly back to the present moment. The heartbreak in his voice was palpable; there was no need to raise her head to see who it was.

* * *

He slid out of her, not even bothering to mask the look of satisfaction on his face. It had been easy – so easy.

Tom showed up late to that afternoon's Quidditch match, slipping into the Ravenclaw changing room just after it started. Cramer's things were easy to spot, a Quidditch bag monogrammed with his initials stuffed under a bench. Tom unzipped the front pocket and placed the note inside with the corner sticking out slightly to ensure that Cramer would see it. It was a simple message that read:

_Warren,_

_Meet me in my room around eleven tonight – I have a surprise for you._

_Rose_

He sat through the match, loathing just about every second of it. He had never been one for Quidditch – not to mention the fact that Ravenclaw won. After the match, when he was walking from the stands with a few of his fellow Slytherins, the crowd had to bottleneck into the narrow pathway that led from the pitch to the castle. He ended up quite close to the Horton family and Basil locked eyes with him, narrowing them slightly. Tom narrowed his right back; there was no need to attempt to appease the man any longer.

'_I'll be fucking your daughter tonight. Just so you know,' _he found himself desperately wanting to say.

And that was certainly the truth: Tom would wait for Rosemary to return to her dormitory under the front that he was merely fulfilling his side of their agreement. Which, he supposed, was partially true; however, she was going to get a lot more that she bargained for. He'd get her all hot and bothered, perhaps to the point where she was screaming his name as soon as Cramer walked in. It had become clear that Rosemary wasn't going to tell Cramer on her own, so Tom would make it unavoidable. Surely, Cramer would hate her if he knew what she really was. This would be his revenge: to destroy what he now clearly realized was a relationship of convenience.

The multiple orgasms, though certainly a pleasure for him to initiate and observe, had been part of the ploy too. After all, He needed to keep things going long enough so Warren actually caught them. Fortunately, Rosemary's natural endurance facilitated this quite nicely. He enjoyed feeling her melt in his arms, every ounce of tension leaving her body. Though he kept telling himself that that night was about revenge and nothing more, it was still quite difficult not to get lost in utter desire. And a few times, he did: when he tasted her slight sweetness, when he pressed himself into her…

Regardless of these temporary distractions, he had clearly been successful: Cramer looked as though he might start crying any second now…

But, he would never find out for sure. Cramer left as quickly as he arrived, without another word. He did, however, slam the door behind him.

He looked down at Rosemary to watch for the look of devastation that surely had to be on the way. Instead, he watched as she grabbed his shirt off the floor, slipped it on, and dashed out the door after Cramer. Even so, he was satisfied at the success of his plan. Surely, he had proven to her that she should not play with fire.

He waited for the sound of her calling after him in desperation, but heard instead:

"_Stupefy!"_

He slipped on his pants and followed Horton into the corridor to see her kneeling at Cramer's side. Tom watched slack jawed as she pressed her wand to his temple and muttered _'Obliviate.'_

_This_ certainly hadn't been part of his plan.

He knew he should be upset that his scheme had failed, but he wasn't. At least not in that moment. In truth, once he got over the initial shock, he was nothing short of impressed. The past couple of days had been very odd for Tom, with Raoul and Rosemary both surprising him so significantly; he was accustomed to expecting so little from people.

She _had_ grown darker, hadn't she? After all, with the exception of the Cruciatus, wasn't this exactly what Tom had done to Cramer just a few months prior? Wasn't this what had earned the termination of her loyalty to him?

Clearly, things had truly changed and if he was being honest with himself, Tom couldn't remember a time he had been more attracted to her. There she sat, on the cold stone floor drowning in his button-down shirt, skillfully performing a memory charm on Cramer.

Rosemary finished and sent Cramer back to his dormitory with a sleepwalking charm. This was where they differed, he supposed: he hadn't hesitated to use the Imperius Curse to accomplish this task before. She lowered her wand and avoided his eyes as she walked back toward her dormitory.

He followed her automatically, as though in a trance because of this rather shocking update in her character. She stopped at her door, apparently noticing that he was following her. "You should go."

But he didn't want to. Tom could still taste her on his lips. He wanted to stay, finish what they started. Seeing her flex her magical prowess had, in fact, only served to turn him on further.

"You have my shirt," he pointed out slyly.

She slipped it off of her and extended it to him, revealing the beauty of her naked body once more. He took it from her, but tossed it to the ground, leaning in to kiss her neck.

Now he wanted her for his own desires – not just for revenge.

"Really. I'm not in the mood," she told him as she closed her eyes. He could feel her trembling slightly beneath his fingertips as though she was suddenly very cold.

"Mood is a transient quality…" he said softly in her ear and then nibbled lightly on the lobe. "…very easily influenced…"

She pulled away. For a moment she looked as though she were about to cry, but her face quickly shifted to an odd, empty expression. He watched her as she removed a familiar bottle of clear liquor from her trunk and took a shot straight out of it. He hadn't the first clue what she might be thinking as she crossed the room again, took his hand, and led him slowly to her bed. She climbed on top of it, lay down on her back, and opened her legs, affording him a full view of her very alluring anatomy.

Tom shed his trousers once more and climbed up after her. He wasn't sure what possessed him to do it, but he found himself lying next to her for a moment, his hand tenderly stroking her cheek before leaning in and brushed his lips against hers softly. There was something a bit more intimate about it than his usual demanding forcefulness: it was the way he used to kiss her sometimes, when they were together. Apparently she noticed, too – her eyes had widened just slightly in surprise. Embarrassed at his unexpected display of tenderness, he quickly climbed on top of her and pressed himself into her, causing her to let out a small moan.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his body close to hers; he responded by putting his arms around her as well. She was so warm and her skin was so smooth…It felt lovely against him. Her nails dug into his shoulder blades as he thrusted into her again and again. Though this version of sex was far gentler than what he usually preferred with her, it suited the moment. He had an inexplicable desire to be as close to her as humanly possible.

He collapsed beside her, both of them breathing heavily for a minute or so as a sense of sublime peacefulness flooded over him: all he could think about was her and how intimate the act they just completed had felt…

Rosemary rolled out of bed and grabbed a packet of cigarettes. Tom admired her moonlit silhouette as she cracked the window and blew out each breath of smoke into the cold night air. He could tell she was upset about something; perhaps the fact that they had had sex or what she did to Cramer. Maybe both. It wasn't his place to care anyway.

He had no intention of spending the night in her room. However, he was so undeniably comfortable when she returned to her bed and curled her warm body up against his that he couldn't bring himself to leave. His eyelids had grown heavy in the aftermath of his release, but his mind continued to spin.

Unfortunately, his peacefulness of minutes prior had quickly evaporated from his consciousness and he found himself wondering: was it possible to loathe and adore someone at the same time, in the same breath?

She was quite the little harlot, wasn't she? Nothing meant anything to her anymore. Certainly not their carnal pursuits, she had made _that_ perfectly clear when she told him it had been meaningless after the first time. Nor could he possibly conclude that her relationship with Cramer meant anything to her either, given her complete lack of firm reluctance to cheapen it with an affair. But yet, by erasing Cramer's memory she had established that things _still_ weren't over between them. He wasn't jealous, of course…it was just the principle of the thing. A relationship of convenience indeed.

Tom knew the reason, of course: her overbearing parents. Even so, he couldn't help but look down on her somewhat for such a blatant lack of self-respect. When would it stop, he wondered? Would she allow Mummy and Daddy to run her life completely into the ground with no say whatsoever? That was a different Rosemary from the one he had loved: the one willing to throw away her entire legacy if it meant the freedom she wanted and deserved.

Despite his revulsion at her loss of bravery in the face of her parents, it did satisfy him somewhat to finally realize that whatever she felt for Cramer was superficial at best. She would have never traded information for sex with Tom if she had genuine feelings for the schmuck, after all. He was also rather pleased to see that she had changed in other ways, too; he found this increasingly dark version of Rosemary, with all her dirty little secrets,_ quite_ enthralling.

And so, he was caught between loathing and adoration.

The one thing he knew for sure, however, was that their clandestine affair wasn't going to come to an end anytime soon. After the odd surge of attraction he had felt while watching her remove Cramer's memories and realizing how intriguingly corrupt she had become, he knew that it would be nearly impossible to keep his hands off her from then on.

And perhaps that was okay – they could both relieve their sexual urges without any commitments. He could certainly keep the hassle of emotions out of it…Right? After all, he supposed her lack of any discernible self-respect when it came to her parents wasn't really his business anyway. And this time, he would ensure it was under his complete control. Tom had no remaining illusions about her – now he saw her for exactly what she was. Not unlike himself, she was selfish. She used people – first Cramer and then Tom himself. But two could play that game, and Tom knew that he was far more adept at using people than she could even begin to fathom.

* * *

"_You're so dark babe, but I want you hard." – Alex Turner_

* * *

**This chapter is dedicated to my dear friend CharlotteBlackwood - so glad you got the opportunity to catch up on TDLR! :D If any of you are interested in Lupin/OC pairings, I definitely recommend her new one-shot "Like Death". It's an amazing read and I was soooo very sad it was a one-shot by the end!**

**Thanks so much to Guest6, Blerg, Lady Ravanna, RosiePosie15, Oksanallex, Alice Helena, Queentakesjack, CharlotteBlackwood, x2leoj, gr8rockstarrox, marly4077, and two guest users for your reviews! :D**


	67. Part II - Study Date

Study Date

_February 27, 1945_

"Good morning, love." Warren happily slid into the seat next to her at the Ravenclaw table and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. She could hardly look at him she felt so awful. "How are you?"

Ignorance truly was bliss, she supposed.

"I'm doing well," she lied. "And you?"

"Absolutely fantastic," he beamed as he spread a bit of jam on a piece of toast. "I was thinking about what your father and I were discussing yesterday – you know, about the issues they've been having with the new models at high altitudes?"

Rosemary nodded, though she had no recollection of such conversation. Over the years, she had gotten remarkably adept at tuning out anything her father mentioned about Quidditch, Comet, or Cleansweep, Comet's largest rival in the market.

"Well, I won't bore you with the details –"

Rosemary thanked him internally.

"- but I was thinking about it ever since and I might just have a potential solution...Do you think it would be alright if I wrote him?"

Rose looked at him in surprise because of his hesitation. "Of course."

"Are you sure? The last thing I want is to waste his time…"

"He'd love to hear from you," Rosemary told him. "My father adores you."

"Really?"

She nodded.

Warren smiled down at his plate and then looked up at her. "I'll definitely write him, then."

As guilty as she felt about what she had done to him two nights prior, she knew there had really been no other option, especially after the firm reminder of the degree to which her parents fancied him. At this point, it didn't seem outlandish to conclude that they very well might disown her if she ever ended things with him –Tom seemed hardly a factor any longer. She knew she should be happy that her parents were so amiable with him – being with Warren meant no more arguments about who she might marry, after all – but for the most part, she actually found it oddly annoying.

Warren finished his toast and moved on to his eggs. "Are you by chance free tonight?"

The thought of spending time with him and being forced to confront her guilt sounded absolutely terrible, but Rosemary knew she couldn't just neglect him completely. She nodded.

"Great! A few of us were going to form a study group to prepare for the Transfigurations exam on Friday…perhaps have the kitchen elves bring something up to us while we're working. Would you like to join us?"

'_How fun,' _Rosemary thought sarcastically, but bit her tongue. Only in her house would she find people that would think this would be a good time. It drew a stark and rather laughable comparison to the Slytherin version of a get-together, which was considered incomplete without at the very least full table of liquor. Even so, Rosemary wouldn't have minded the idea if she knew it wouldn't simply turn into a question and answer session between her and her slightly less academically successful peers, Warren included.

"Sounds lovely," she said dryly, though Warren seemed not to notice.

"Perfect," he smiled again and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

Rosemary picked at her eggs and took a few bites, though she didn't have much of an appetite the past few days. Suddenly she felt eyes on her and she looked up instinctively to see Tom sending a small smirk in her direction. She had been sure to avoid him all of yesterday, a feat simplified by the fact that they shared very few classes on Mondays. Today, however, she would not be as lucky. They would have two classes together, Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic, as well as their monthly meeting with Dippet and the Heads of Houses.

Sunday night had undoubtedly changed things between her and Tom and she knew it was in her best interest to stay as far away from him as she possibly could. Rose couldn't get the way he had looked at her in such approval and satisfaction out of her head, nor could she deny any longer that he was too dangerous for her. This would certainly be nothing short of hypocritical. They were on equal terms now, both of them just as twisted as the other.

And so, a very, very dangerous thought kept popping into her head – if she knew then what she did now about herself, would she still have ended things with Tom? The answer was so obvious that this question felt almost rhetorical:

No.

This of course meant it was absolutely essential she keep her distance from Tom – she was terrified of the temptations that went beyond physical urges this realization might introduce.

Rosemary was about to look away from Tom's dark eyes when Faye strode into her field of vision and took the seat at the table directly across from her. "Morning, Rose….Warren," Faye greeted them both.

"How have you been, Donohue?" Warren greeted her warmly.

It suddenly struck Rose that her best friend had hardly interacted with her boyfriend of roughly two months. In fact, the last time she had seen them speak was on the way back to Hogwarts after the holiday break. Faye had been quite rude to him that particular afternoon, but her pleasant manner toward him now showed no evidence of this:

"Oh, you know…living the life of a soon-to-be-married woman. They never tell you how exhausting planning the wedding will be. Exhausting in a good way, though. We've only just started putting together the rough details…but when we're finished, it's going to be absolutely brilliant," she gushed. "Speaking of – Rose, I was hoping you might help me decide on a venue this weekend. Mum wants to put down a deposit so we can confirm the date and begin working on invitations."

Rosemary nodded with a smile. "Of course." It made her incredibly happy to see her best friend glowing the way she did when she spoke of her quickly-approaching marriage. Rosemary wondered if she would ever be this excited if (or more likely when) Warren proposed to her and it seemed incredibly unlikely. Faye had fancied Adam for years before he began to show any interest in return. Her story was one of patience and loyalty…the latter of which being a quality that Rosemary was almost positive that she did not possess based on recent events.

"I'm happy for you, Faye," Warren smiled at her and then at Rosemary before checking his watch. "Well, I should be off to Care of Magical Creatures." He kissed her briefly on the lips. "I'll see you later."

As soon as he was out of earshot, Faye said, "I only hope that my relationship with Adam can one day be as healthy as yours. You two really give us something to strive for."

Rosemary had little tolerance for Faye's occasional bitchiness early in the morning and even less in the aftermath of the previous weekend's events. "Shut it," she warned the blonde.

Faye smiled cheerily and took a drink of water, looking far too pleased with herself.

* * *

After Charms, his last class of the day, was complete, Tom reported to Dumbledore's for a meeting with Dippet and the other Heads of Houses. Rosemary and the others were already there when he arrived and slid into the vacant seat next to her. He greeted the professors and apologized for being the last to arrive, though the meeting wasn't scheduled to begin for another few minutes anyway.

The table they sat around was quite small, which meant his chair so close to hers that he could almost feel the warmth of her body radiating off her. He stole a look at her out of the corner of his eyes and fought a grin. Every time he looked at her in the past two days, he was reminded of the way she had knelt before Warren and broken at least five school rules in the matter of about five minutes. With each reminder came the same feelings of surprise and admiration, as though his memory of the other night had yet to fully sync with reality. He had always seen a sliver of darkness in her – this, after all, that was what had drawn him to her in the beginning of it all – but she had reached a whole new level. Quite frankly, it seemed too good to be true and just thinking about the other night was getting him turned on all over again…

Headmaster Dippet began the meeting by praising Dumbledore for the slow rebuilding of parents' confidence in the school's security and asked him to comment on any updates from his recent meeting with the Ministry. Though perhaps unsurprising, it was impossible for Tom to look at Dumbledore in the same way after everything Raoul had told him. As he spoke, Tom watched and listened intently, examining every gesture, word, and facial expression that came from the professor.

Unfortunately, he had yet to think up a plan to accomplish his mission of spying on the miserable old fool, though he had been actively trying for at least a week. He knew couldn't exactly waltz into the old man's office and rummage around; one of the many paintings on his walls would surely tattle on him, after all. Tom knew he would have to resort to far stealthier measures – in terms of actual logistics, however, he was stuck.

After a few brief and rather vague updates on Grindelwald, Dumbledore shifted topics. "In terms of safety within Hogwarts itself, I am pleased to note that the efforts of the apparently student led anti-muggleborn organization have also subsided somewhat over the past few of weeks."

Oh, if they only knew that he and the Knights were simply preoccupied with preparing themselves for even larger endeavors.

"Even so, it is essential that we continue our investigation discreetly and ensure that this malicious behavior does not reappear…"

Dumbledore looked at him square in the eye which might have startled him before, but Tom needn't worry any longer – Occlumency had become all but second nature to him in the past few weeks. However, his heart rate did pick up significantly when Dumbledore's eyes moved to Rosemary's and he realized how easily she could unintentionally reveal his secret.

He needed to think of a way to get her mind away from the topic of his wrongdoings – and quickly. On a sudden impulse, he discreetly reached under the table and ran a finger up the side of her thigh. He felt her tense slightly, though thankfully she kept her vision focused on Dumbledore.

Dippet moved on to ask the other Heads of Houses if they had any specific concerns and Tom watched as Dumbledore's eyes moved away from Rosemary. With a potential crisis (hopefully) averted, he knew it was safe to remove his hand from her. He hesitated, however, his fingers resting just a bit higher than the edge of her thigh-high stockings, captivated by the delightful softness of her skin.

He moved his hand even higher and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair and Tom fought a smirk. He knew it was highly inappropriate and, if Dippet of any of the other professors caught on, very well might get him removed from his position as Head Boy, but Merlin it was fun watching her squirm…

"I certainly have something to say," Professor Flannigan started with her usual air of slight hostility. "This 'ECB', as we continue to hear more and more about, is wreaking havoc on Hogwarts. Students are coming to class half-drugged, hardly paying attention, and then passing exams with flying colors. It's allowing them to cheat!" Tom remembered Rosier telling a few of the other Knights about his experience with the 'Clever' component of 'Ease, Clever, Bliss' and how easily he had achieved an 'E' on his History of Magic exam with the drug's help.

"Not to mention the numerous hospitalizations it's caused," Flannigan continued. "I believe our course of action up to this point has been ridiculously permissive, Armando. If we do not find a way to get it under control, I will be resigning at the end of this term – I have absolutely no desire to teach to such a disgustingly immoral student body."

The table was quiet for a few seconds in the aftermath of her outburst and Tom felt Rosemary tense again beneath his fingertips.

"Though we have alerted the Ministry on the matter, there has been very little investigation into the source of the illicit material. I can only assume this is related to their increased allocation of resources to the effort against Grindelwald's forces," Dumbledore said.

"I feel very strongly on the subject as well, Florence," Slughorn said finally. "It is an abhorrent exploitation of the art of potions. Perhaps, if the Ministry is failing to provide us with support, we should take the investigation into our own hands…"

Viesey nodded. "I agree entirely, Horace."

"I could at least begin by completing a thorough inspection to attempt to elucidate its contents and perhaps identify where the ingredients might be coming from…" Slughorn suggested. "With your permission, Armando, perhaps Ms. Horton and Mr. Riddle could assist me – it is certain to be a laborious task and, as my top seventh-year Potions students, their help would undoubtedly hasten the process."

Dippet looked thoughtful for a few moments before saying gravely: "I suppose this is our best course of action. Are you willing to assist Professor Slughorn, Ms. Horton? Mr. Riddle?

"Yes Sir," Tom nodded.

"Yes Sir." Rosemary echoed him, her voice much higher than usual.

Tom noticed that Dumbledore was looking at her again and instinctively, he began drawing circles on her inner thigh with his fingertips to try and shift her thoughts once again, though when he realized what he was doing he wasn't sure why – what did it matter if she got herself caught? The only secrets he should be concerned with were his own. Even so, he felt a very strange urge to help her…to protect her.

After all, if she got herself expelled, that would surely mean the end of their sensual encounters.

* * *

"What in the hell is wrong with you?" she hissed as soon as they left Dumbledore's office. Thankfully, the corridor was empty.

Tom regarded her in his usual cool, arrogant amusement. "You seemed rather…stressed. I thought you could relax a bit."

"Well that was _far_ from relaxing," she told him snappily.

The look of amusement persisted. "I was doing you a favor, you know."

"Oh, thank you _so much_. Your beneficence knows no bounds – I just _crave _another touch by you every waking minute."

"I know," he said plainly.

She stopped walking and looked at him, genuinely unsure whether or not he was serious – she _did_ fantasize about him quite a bit, after all, which he would easily know if he had been reading her thoughts again…Or perhaps he was just bantering her back. It was always so difficult to tell.

"That's not exactly what I meant, however. You'd do well to remember that Dumbledore can likely read your mind like an open book, a precarious situation indeed given our secrets."

"Why do you care whether or not I get caught?" she snapped.

"Your secrets aren't the only ones you're keeping."

"And if he read my mind and knew what you were doing under the table?"

Tom smirked. "I suppose that was a chance I was willing to take."

_Unbelievable._

"Well, maybe I wasn't!"

"I suggest you learn Occlumency, then." He said this so casually, as though it were such a small feat – as though it wasn't a skill that took most wizards and witches a lifetime to master. "The least you could do is develop a foundation."

With the growing pile of schoolwork, brewing for Jasper, Head Girl duties, Warren, and now the stress of helping Slughorn's investigate her own potion, it was difficult for Rosemary to imagine taking on yet another task. Even so, she couldn't exactly argue with Tom's reasoning either – learning Occlumency (or, as he mentioned, a foundation), was really in her best interest. Particularly hers, as she would no longer have to worry about whether or not Tom was inside her mind. It had been something she had thought about pursuing multiple times after their split anyway, but had never really gotten around to it.

"If you stop by – let's say around ten this evening – I'll borrow you a few of my books on the subject, as you'll find little information in the library…Perhaps we could fulfill some of those persistent cravings, as well." He sounded just as casual as he had while suggesting she learn Occlumency.

Rosemary said nothing as they strode the remaining length of the corridor side by side. While his offer was certainly tempting, she knew she needed to stay far, far away from Tom Riddle. Her feelings for him kept coming back with increasing strength each time they were together; she knew it would only make things with Warren even more complicated than they already were.

* * *

As predicted, she felt rather exasperated after the study session with several of her fellow Ravenclaws. While they certainly weren't behind in the material, they asked her countless questions about trivial details and facts that she was almost certain wouldn't appear on their upcoming exam. Such over-preparation and frantic studying days before an exam was embarrassingly typical in Ravenclaw house.

This was the primary reason that Faye detested so many of them and Rosemary was certainly beginning to appreciate her perspective. While Rosemary shared these characteristics to some degree, she didn't take it to the same extremes – nor did she need to. She had always been naturally intelligent and had learned early on that studying was more of an option than an obligation. It had been a similar situation for Faye, though she was far more content scooting by unnoticed in the middle of the class than Rosemary could ever be.

Thankfully, after nearly two hours of studying and a snack delivery from three kitchen elves, everyone began trickling away to their dormitories or the library. She remained seated on the floor next to Warren who, surprisingly enough, had been the member of the study group that had annoyed her least.

"I'm sorry they bombarded you with so many questions," he said quietly. "A few of them practically begged me to invite you…it's just that you're basically the best in the class…"

Though she was still annoyed that she had wasted her night in a study group that wasn't helpful to her in the slightest, the ego stroking certainly helped to take the edge off. "It's fine. I was happy to help," she fibbed.

"I might have a way to make it up to you," he told her, before standing and extending his hand to help her up. "Follow me."

It didn't take long to figure out that they were on their way to his dormitory. Rosemary's pulse quickened.

'_I might have a way to make it up to you.'_

Did that mean what she thought it meant? Or had she simply spent so much time with Tom that she was just jaded?

They entered his dormitory and she was rather disappointed that his dormmates weren't there, as she had hoped their presence might deter him from whatever it was he was do.

He gestured to his bed for her to sit and she did so, hesitantly. "One minute," he told her, as he pulled his shirt off over his head. "I can't stand that they keep the fire going downstairs all winter. It's always too hot in here."

Rosemary was expecting him to ask her if she'd like to shed a piece of clothing next, but instead he moved to his desk and began shuffling through a large stack of papers. She watched him in curiosity, her eyes occasionally drifting down to his muscular arms, chest, and abdominals. Rosemary had to admit she was impressed – all his years of Quidditch had apparently paid off.

He seemed to find the page he was looking for and joined her on his bed. She had calmed slightly, no longer fearful that he would suddenly jump on her. Warren turned to her and she watched him study her face as he said, "Before I give this to you, I just want you to know that I won't be offended if you don't like it…"

Her curiosity was piqued. "What is it?"

He said nothing, but handed her the sheet of paper. It was a sketch in ink of a girl sitting on a tree stump in the middle of a forest with a crown made of roses. It took her a moment to realize – "Is this…me?"

She watched his face reddened slightly.

"Like I said, if you don't like it…."

She shook her head. "Warren, this is amazing – I didn't even know you could draw!"

"This isn't my best," he said bashfully. "I was bored in Care of Magical Creatures today…Usually I sketch whatever 'creature' we're studying, but I couldn't quite get you out of my head."

Usually, she would have found such a sentiment cloying, but this time she minded it much less. "Can I see the others?"

Warren's slight nerviness seemed to fade as he smiled and nodded at her before fetching a rather sizable stack of parchment from his desk. He handed the pile to her and she looked through them one by one in awe. There were labeled diagrams of sleek broomstick models, sketches of nearly every magical creature she could think of, and quite a few of the same girl, always with a flower crown on her head. Rosemary's smile got little wider every time she ran across one of these.

_Tom_ had never drawn her before…

"What is this?" she asked him, holding up a sketch of a small, foxlike creature with a huge, bushy tail that dwarfed its body, large eyes, and long, pointy ears. The pattern of its fur, however, was what took her breath away; it looked as though someone had painted an intricate, swirly masterpiece right onto the creature.

"That's a Rhayma. Kettleburn managed to catch one for class with a trapping enchantment he had placed on a certain area of the Forbidden Forest, but he's only seen a handful of them there. This little guy was terrified in front of us all…I felt sorry for him. They don't have much to defend themselves against predators except for their agility."

Rosemary was fascinated and was suddenly filled with regret that she hadn't elected to continue the class at the N.E.W.T. level. While she loved animals and had placed into Care of Magical Creatures with an 'O' on her O.W.L., at the time it seemed to be a colossal waste of time in comparison to the other course offerings. But she wouldn't tell Warren that.

"Can I keep this?" she found herself asking him suddenly, holding up the picture of the Rhayma.

He smiled. "Of course. You can have any of them." Suddenly, he added excitedly: "We should try to find one!"

"Find what?"

"A Rhayma – we could sneak into the Forest this weekend…"

Rosemary was surprised by his suggestion, but quickly became just as excited as he seemed to be. "Really?"

He nodded. "Let's go Friday after the Transfigurations exam – I'm sure we'll want some fresh air afterward."

"Okay," she smiled. For the first time in quite a while, she was genuinely looking forward to spending time with him.

She felt guiltier than ever, now, for failing to make an attempt to _truly _get to know him. Perhaps if she had, she wouldn't have rediscovered her feelings for Tom…perhaps she wouldn't have cheated on Warren with him. What else about him might pleasantly surprise her?

* * *

There was certainly a bit more pep in his step upon learning that Rosemary fantasized of him regularly, though this was not entirely surprising anyway. He had only been bluffing, of course, when he told her he knew about her desires, but her face in the aftermath had told him everything. Tom had resolved long ago to avoid reading her thoughts at all cost; her body was addicting enough, he couldn't even imagine what form his addiction might take if he allowed himself to indulge in her inner musings.

At any rate, it was certainly entertaining to give her a hard time about it all, but Tom knew he had been fantasizing about her just as much. And even more so after seeing such a darker side of her. For the last forty-eight hours, he couldn't get her out of his head for longer than ten or fifteen minutes at a time. Though these thoughts had essentially been the bane of his existence just a week or two prior, he found they no longer bothered him so profoundly.

Nor did the prospect of an affair with her continue to conflict him. Of course, all of this depended on her willingness to participate, but judging from her reaction that afternoon this wouldn't be an issue. The only way this would change was if she suddenly grew moral, but this seemed a relatively slim possibility.

Best of all, he had experienced a huge reduction in his annoyance while watching her and Cramer speak that morning at breakfast. There was something intrinsically satisfying about knowing that, inevitably, she would come back to Tom for what she so clearly needed. If sex was power, which he had clearly proven in her exchange of Beaumont's information, then _he_ controlled her – not Cramer.

All of this was on the forefront of his mind as he strode down to the dungeons for his meeting with the Knights. Usually they met on Fridays, but he had moved the meeting up because Friday happened to be Avery's birthday, which meant that the majority of the Knights would be sloshed or drugged (or, most likely, both) before evening hit. He could have commanded that they postpone the celebration, of course, but Tom supposed they deserved a reward after their recent progress in procuring new members. They had managed to expand the club's membership by seven Ravenclaws since the last meeting. Dolohov had also displayed some ingenuity in inviting his Durmstrang cousin and his friends to attend the meetings via head-only floo.

Markus had also convinced Tom to allow some of the less trivial Slytherin girls into the meetings. With this particular addition, he couldn't help but fantasize about what it would be like to look out at his small crowd of followers and see Rosemary sitting amongst them, near Dolohov and his other most trusted associates.

Perhaps they could even resume their private dueling lessons in the Room of Requirement…the thought alone of watching her master the Cruciatus or one of the other Unforgivables was enough to leave him breathless. In fact, this might not be far off at all: after their conversation that afternoon, it was quite possible that he would be coaching her in Occlumency. Perhaps, he thought excitedly, he could corrupt her even more. Or maybe he was just getting carried away with himself.

Overall, Tom was ecstatic about the turnout, but knew there was something that needed to be done about their meeting place. He could blackmail Rosemary into turning a blind eye to the odd number of Ravenclaws she might see heading to the dungeons during her rounds, but what about the other prefects? Well, he supposed he could blackmail them as well, but it would take far more effort.

The other issue of recruiting new members was ensuring that everyone was on the same page, not only with their goals, but with skills as well. Tom had been training many of the first Knights for months – the new members had quite a bit to catch up on. Perhaps he would have a new member pair up with one or two of the old ones so they could show them what they had learned. Hopefully this would take some of the burden off Tom so he could focus more on plotting their strategy.

He would think of a definitive solution for these problems later; as he launched into the meeting, he allowed himself to get lost in the rare sensation of contentment that had suddenly enveloped his reality.

* * *

"_I cared about her as a person, as a soul, and I wanted to fuck her. And that was the recipe for something much worse than carnal sin – it was a recipe for falling in love." ― Sierra Simone_

* * *

**I had hoped to post this chapter earlier, but I ended up re-writing a few sizable chunks of it over the course of the week. Sorry for the delay! Also, I know Tom's sections were a bit short this chapter, but my next update will be primarily his POV. **

**A huge thank you as always to my lovely reviewers: Alice Helena, Oksanallex, Blerb, Jehilia, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, RosiePosie15, marly4077, Lady Ravanna, Raylis, RainbowKitteh13, CharlotteBlackwood, and four guest users! We've officially reached 500 reviews - so excited about this!(: According to my records, reviewer #500 was marly4077 - so congrats! You've won a spoiler! **

**Another thank you to all** **of my readers that have shown support to my story by following, favoriting, and/or reviewing!**


	68. Part II - Occlumency and Obedience

Occlumency and Obedience

_February 28, 1945_

With a stack of his five best books on the topic of Occlumency in hand, Tom strode across the hallway to Rosemary's dormitory and gave the door a knock. He waited impatiently for her to answer, frustrated and quite honestly a bit disappointed that she had failed to come to his dormitory at ten the night prior as he had specified. After his Knights meeting, he had meticulously gone through all of his texts pertaining to Occlumency and Legilimency and marked the most important five hundred or so sections for her to read. And then he had waited for her a mortifyingly long time, finally retiring to bed at one in the morning. He assumed that she was just being stubborn and likely still upset about the strategy he had employed to distract her thoughts during their meeting with Dippet and the Heads of Houses. Even so, her refusal to make an appearance flew in the face of his previous beliefs that she was under his complete control. But no matter: she would be justly punished and learn that she would do well to yield to his every call from that moment on.

Tom knocked again, more persistently this time, and pressed his ear to the door. When he didn't hear her rustling around inside, he shifted the books into his left arm and drew out his wand with the right. Clearly she had learned nothing from the evening after the Quidditch match when he invited himself into her room to wait for her; the locking charms on her door were precisely the same. He disabled them easily and slipped inside.

As Tom sat the books down on her desk and took a seat in her chair, an impressively detailed ink sketch of a girl surrounded by a thick forest caught his eye. The girl's long hair covered one of her breasts, wore knickers made of leaves, and a small flower crown of roses rested atop her head – besides these minimal exceptions, she was naked. Her expression was shy, but playful. It was beautiful and Tom knew instantly that the girl depicted was Rosemary.

Where did the drawing come from? Did she have some sort of artistic talent she never told him about?

At the bottom of the page, there faint evidence of ink that had bled through from the other side. He flipped the page over and saw in the right corner:

_To the girl lovelier than a million roses._

_Love,_

_W_

He gritted his teeth and fought the instant urge to gag. _'W'_ – Warren.

Tom was instantly bothered for several reasons. For one, he couldn't get over how egregiously tacky it was for Cramer to use her name in such a banal way. And clearly Cramer had seen her naked in order to draw her form so accurately. While Tom had certainly suspected they had been intimate, his stomach twisted in discomfort at this confirmation. But he was irked most of all by that one, simple word:

'_Love.'_

Did Cramer say this to her regularly? Perhaps the more important question was: did she say it back?

And then it hit him. She had been with Cramer last night…she had gone to Cramer instead of meeting him at ten like he told her to. Tom felt an all-too-familiar spark of jealousy within him. No, not jealousy…that was far too simple and would require him to admit that he felt anything remotely emotional toward her. It was much more akin to the feeling of being cheated, as though Cramer had stolen one of his most prized possessions, if only for a few long hours.

Though even Tom had to acknowledge that his response was rather ironic, given the circumstances.

He suddenly heard footsteps approaching from down the corridor and he quickly returned the drawing to her desk, only to realize that he had crunched the sides with his hands in his moment of pure rage. Tom drew his wand and muttered, "_Constratio._"

The page was still flattening when Rosemary arrived at her door, but thankfully she was too distracted by his presence to notice.

"What do you fail to understand about the concept of privacy?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I see you have yet to improve your charms work." He nodded in the direction of her door, maintaining his cool composure even though he was still boiling internally about Cramer's sketch and the fact that Rosemary had surely spent her evening with him. "I thought I might bring over my books regarding Occlumency," he told her. "Seeing as you apparently lacked the motivation to begin yesterday."

"Sorry," she told him shortly. "I was busy."

His irritation continued to build, taking far more of his willpower to hide it. "Well then I hope you're ready to begin now."

"You can't honestly believe that you can just barge here anytime and expect me to drop whatever I'm doing."

"What am I keeping you from?" he asked her, daring her to mention something about Cramer.

She glared at him. "It's the principle of the thing."

Tom smirked, his irritation fading just slightly. "Need I remind you that I'm the one doing you a favor?"

Rosemary rolled her eyes but seemed to resign to her fate, closing her bedroom door behind her and shedding her black school robe as she said: "It's as much of a favor to you as it would be to me. It's not as though you care about _my_ secrets – only your own."

"Then the necessity that you cooperate without hesitation should be perfectly apparent to you." Tom watched as she removed her hair tie and allowed her dark red locks to cascade around her shoulders which were rising and falling just slightly with a sigh.

"Alright, fine. Let's begin."

"No need to thank me," he said sarcastically, and then added with a smirk: "After all, I am certain you will find a way to thank me later."

"Unbelievable." She shook her head, though he was almost certain he saw the shadow of a smile pass over her features.

"Anyway, seeing as you neglected completing any reading on the topic, I suppose I will begin with an overview of the theory behind Legilimency and Occlumency."

"I know the theory behind it," she rolled her eyes yet again and Tom clenched his jaw in frustration at her blasé attitude.

"I certainly hope you aren't referring to that brainless, uninformative lecture that _Dumbledore_ gave on the topics earlier this year."

"Of course not," she said haughtily.

But he knew this was a lie – how would she possibly know more, unless she had taken up the hobby of studying the dark arts in books outside of Hogwarts? Eager to thwart her arrogance, he looked at her with a small, sly grin. "Tell me, then: in Ancient Greece, from what magical law did Videtious Glavano derive the principles of Legilimency?"

She was silent for a few moments as a hint of scarlet spread across her cheeks, but finally told him an exasperated sigh, "I can read about the theory later."

"Very well." Tom was confident that the embarrassment she experienced in admitting to him she didn't know this admittedly insignificant tidbit would be more than enough to prevent her from skimping on reading the material he provided. That was the Ravenclaw in her. "Let's get straight to it, then." He gestured for her to sit near him on the side of her bed as he turned her desk chair in which he was seated to face her.

When they were settled, he said, "Occlumency is often easiest to learn with your eyes closed first. As you may know already, the goal is to empty your mind of everything – emotion, stress, thoughts of any kind. If you wish, you can picture some sort of object instead of a completely blank state, though whatever you choose should obviously have no connection to your memories. That is the first stage of learning and then you can progress to a blank state. The third stage is complete control of your thoughts – you will be able to divert an invader to any thoughts you wish, even if they are a lie. It is through this means that you can escape the effects of Veritaserum and if you possess true mastery, even the Imperius Curse."

Rosemary nodded in comprehension, apparently abandoning her attempts at playing a know-it-all.

"Are you ready to try?"

She nodded again, but her eyes showed hesitation.

"Nervous?"

"Sort of." She looked away from his eyes and played with the hem of her skirt. "What if you see something that, er..."

"That you don't want me to see?"

"Well, yes."

Tom thought about this for a few moments and realized the full extent of her vulnerability in this situation. While he doubted she had anything to hide that would actually surprise him, there were surely embarrassing memories and other thoughts she didn't wish for him to see anyway. He couldn't imagine knowingly opening _his_ mind to another. This clearly meant one thing: she trusted him…though only Merlin knew why.

Of course, her vulnerability certainly appealed to his power-hungry inclinations, which urged him to plunder her mind for something to use against her later. But in truth he had no desire to violate her trust and their precarious affiliation along with it. He didn't want things to end here, with Occlumency; he would teach her a whole array of dark magic, if she only let him.

Without much thought, he reached out and ran his fingers along the back of her hand. "There is no way to know what you will or will not reveal. However, I can assure that whatever it is will stay between us."

"Do you promise?"

"Yes," he nodded.

She smiled and he found himself smiling back at her.

_What in the hell was that?_

He suddenly jerked away from her and coughed, at a complete loss as to what it was that had just come over him. Why had he felt the need to be so kind to her? How absolutely mortifying…

"Now close your eyes," he abruptly commanded her, desperate recover at least a small portion of his lost pride. He watched as her eyelashes came to rest just above the top of her cheeks. "And clear your mind." He waited about ten seconds before asking. "Are you ready?"

She nodded.

He entered her mind without the verbal incantation to avoid disturbing her and saw the flicker of a flame she was picturing. Tom pushed a bit harder into her thoughts and the flame flickered, but she quickly recovered it. Harder still, and the flame suddenly extinguished in a gasp of smoke and the floodgate of her thoughts opened.

Tom was hit with a string of memories that seemed quite arbitrary until he realized that fire was present in every single one of them, which he assumed must have stemmed from the flame she had visualized.

First he was sent back to what he instantly recognized as their first-year Charms class, when they had learned the Fire-Making Charm,_ 'Incendio'_. He spotted his much younger self in the front row seated alone, painfully ignorant of the utility provided by making (or at least pretending to make) friends. A fleeting thought told him that, if he had only started sooner, he would have been much further along in his agendas by now.

But this was Rosemary's memory, not his. Tom looked around the room until he saw her seated three rows behind him, next to Donohue. While her blonde friend looked twig-thin and almost sickly, a quality that she eventually grew out of, Rosemary simply appeared to be the tiny, more-cute-than-beautiful version of her present self. She also appeared to be incredibly bored and the only other student besides Tom to perfect her charm within the first fifteen minutes of class time.

Donohue was chatting away about something as inconsequential as ever (some things never change), and he could tell Rosemary was only pretending to listen. But her attention was quickly earned when her friend asked, _"So, who in our house do you find the cutest?"_

Rosemary turned a deep shade of red. _"Oh…I, er…I dunno…"_she stammered.

Tom smiled in amusement. He had no clue that she was ever this shy, though quite honestly he hadn't paid much attention to her at all until the beginning of their sixth year anyway.

Donohue continued to pester her for an answer, but if she ever gave one or not he wasn't sure; he was being pulled abruptly into her next memory.

This one seemed much closer to present day, as evidenced by the full-scale version of Rosemary. He was now at the Horton mansion, where she and her parents sat in silence at their long dinner table which was lit by tall, white candles.

Rosemary sported a look of complete disbelief and it was she who broke the silence initially. _"You would honestly keep me from Hogwarts if I don't get back together with Markus?"_

Her mother. _"We'll do what we have to." _She looked at her husband for support and Basil nodded reluctantly at his daughter.

Tom watched the fury spread across Rosemary's face, until the moment that finally unleashed it on her mother: _"YOU ARE A COMPLETE FUCKING BITCH!"_

_"Rosemary Alana Horton! Go to your-"_

_"Already going!"_

Then her memory shifted again, this time to the Slytherin common room. As evidenced by the sizable crowd and copious amounts of alcohol, they were apparently in the middle of one of the Slytherin parties hosted throughout the years – not that this narrowed down things much. But apparently it was within the last year, as Tom spotted himself with Rosemary on his lap, snogging drunkenly in the corner near the crackling fireplace.

As he was beginning to become rather turned on at the sight, Tom figured it was finally time to leave her thoughts. She was looking at him expectantly when he pulled away and into the present moment.

"Well? How did I do?"

"Very well," he nodded in approval. He was quickly reminded of the reason he had resisted performing Legilimency on Rosemary – her mind_ was_ addicting. Just looking into her dark blue eyes made him want to pour himself back into her all over again. "Let's try again," he suggested. "Try to picture something a bit more permanent than a flame this time."

After ten further attempts at Occlumency and considerable improvement after each one, Tom had to admit that he was impressed – _he_ hadn't even picked up on Occlumency this quickly. Then again, he didn't have the advantage of assistance from a skilled tutor. Perhaps it was time to present her with a bit of a challenge.

She flinched at his sudden touch as his fingers ran down the side of her face and along her jawbone until they reached her chin. Then she felt them slide down her neck and begin tracing her collarbone in gentle strokes.

He watched her thoughts spiral through a variety of explicit sexual acts that they had accomplished together. "Focus," he said in a scolding voice, though he was really quite pleased at how quickly her thoughts had wandered to such graphic scenarios.

Even though Tom had chastised her for getting distracted, his own thoughts were beginning to wander as well. The sketch on her desk and the cloying message on the back continued to haunt him. Did she tell Cramer she loved him? Had they done all the same things together that she and Tom had? Perhaps a peek into some specific memories wouldn't hurt…

Or maybe they would. Literally.

"Ouch!" she shrieked, as she suddenly tucked into a ball on her bed and held her head in her hands.

He pulled himself from her mind immediately and conjured some water into an empty glass that happened to be sitting on her nightstand. "My apologies," he told her. "A migraine can occur when a Legilimens becomes a bit…overzealous."

"May I remind you that this is my first time attempting Occlumency? Would it kill you to control yourself?" she snapped, slowly rising back up to a seated position. "I thought you knew what you were doing."

Not surprisingly, her comment set off his temper. "I admit I am finding myself distracted. You see, I am very displeased with your recent behavior," he told her heatedly.

"Excuse me – _my_ behavior? You're the one giving me migraines and taking the liberty to break into my room twice in the last week," she retorted.

Tom ignored her. "I do not appreciate the fact that you wasted my time last night," he snarled. Then he took a few moments to compose himself before adding calmly, "And you will receive punishment accordingly."

"_Punishment?_"

"Yes. Now undress, Miss Horton," he told her simply.

She jumped from her bed and stormed across her dormitory to open the door. "Get out."

He stood from her desk chair, drew his wand from his pocket, and casted two spells – one to slam the door closed and the other to place a complex charm on the lock that would take her at least five minutes to undo. "Undress," he repeated, more forcefully this time.

"Are you out of your bloody mind?"

He found himself annoyed with her feisty disobedience, but also quite aroused, knowing that it would make claiming her far more satisfying. Tom eyed her warningly. "Do not test my patience. I have made every effort to be agreeable up to this point."

Rosemary snorted in apparent disbelief. "You call the last couple of months being _agreeable_?"

"Yes. Considering the full scale of my abilities, I have been exceptionally merciful to you. Now undress. I will not ask you again." He made a motion as though he was going to grab his wand once more and he saw a glimmer of fear dash across her eyes.

Apparently, she seemed to come to her senses. She scowled at him in both fear and loathing as she hesitantly shed layer after layer. He swallowed as he examined her naked form, taking a few seconds to collect himself. "Very good," he praised her with an air of condescension. The sight, combined with her eventual submission to him was more than enough to make his trousers suddenly uncomfortable to wear.

Tom strode over to her and she continued to glare up at him. He clucked his tongue in disapproval and put a finger under her chin. "I suggest that you reform your attitude immediately," he told her as he began to shed his layers of dress as well. "You will only make things worse for yourself."

* * *

As if it was even possible for her to make things worse for herself. Once again, she was torn between guilt and desire. Of course, she hadn't truly believed that she would stay away from Tom – in her heart, she knew that any resolve to keep away from him she had felt after her surprisingly pleasant interaction with Warren the night before had only been painted on in a thin, transparent veneer. But she certainly wasn't about to tell Tom that.

Especially not now, when he was being such a prick about it. Despite his current prick-ish behavior, however, he had truly been quite sweet with her earlier that evening. Once again, she had caught a fleeting, precious glimpse of the 'old Tom'.

But honestly, the 'new Tom' wasn't really so bad either. She couldn't quite get over how sexy it was when he acted so authoritative toward her. Somehow she felt safer letting him at least _think_ that he had control of her; after all, it would be foolish to pursue a situation in which she would be at complete odds with him. She would resist slightly, maintaining some semblance of her pride, but eventually allow herself to fulfill both of their desires. It was truly her choice in the end, regardless of what he believed…right?

Rosemary supposed there was no way to know for sure; nothing between them was black and white any longer. In fact, she wasn't sure that it ever had been. All she knew was that once again, her guilt would take a backseat to her desires. She was weak, but who would ever know besides Tom?

He led her back to the center of her dormitory. "Get on your knees, you filthy harlot," he ordered her as he pushed her down to the floor by her shoulders. It was all she could do to keep a smile from appearing on her lips as she readily obeyed his orders.

* * *

Tom reached down to bury his hands in her hair and pressed her head against him. He felt her gag slightly and let out a small whimper as he pushed himself all the way into her mouth, relishing its warm wetness. He guided her movements and she continued to look up at him with those magnificent blue eyes just pleading him for reprieve, but he wasn't about to let her go that easily. She needed to learn who she truly belonged to…_him. _Not Cramer.

Plus, he could tell by the sparkle in her eyes that she was enjoying this. She _liked_ submitting to him.

"Touch yourself," he commanded her, curious about how far he could actually take things.

When she hesitated, Tom told her, "You'll only make it more painful if you don't. I need you to be ready– you won't be wasting my time any longer."

He watched as her hand slipped between her legs, an ungodly attractive motion. He reached down to play with her perky nipples, delighted with the way that they firmed even more under the touch of his fingertips. She closed her eyes and let out a deep moan, the vibration of which reverberated down his cock and dissipated through the rest of his body. It felt divine, but he knew he needed to put an end to it soon before he lost himself completely. He supposed this was the trade-off of being in complete control; he got far too turned on far too quickly.

As Tom pulled himself from her mouth, he noticed that her lips were swollen just slightly. He ran his thumb along the bottom one, growing even more aroused at this evidence of her obedience. "Good girl."

He yanked her to her feet and bent her over the bed. "Spread your legs." Rosemary did as he said and he reveled in her glistening wetness; she was so desperate for his cock that he could see it.

"I hope that I have made myself clear that, in the future, you would do well to not keep me waiting." He pulled her hair, forcing her to arch her back, and pressed his cock against her opening. "Have you learned your lesson, young lady?"

"Yes," she told him.

"Are you absolutely certain?" He smirked despite himself, as he slowly began to press into her.

"Yes," she whimpered.

"Good. Next time, I will not be nearly as patient or forgiving."

Rosemary moaned pure lust and he finally began to fuck her. Hard. She muffled her screams and moans into a pillow, an incredibly arousing sight and sound that only spurred him to go faster and harder. He grabbed onto her hips roughly, his fingertips digging into her soft flesh, and moved her over himself again and again.

As he finished, he fought the urge to kiss her greedily. Now was not the time to show weakness of any kind, including such tender affections. Still, when she collapsed into bed and tugged his hand as a signal to join her, he couldn't resist obliging her.

She rested her head against his chest and he stared up at the ceiling, feeling satisfied but not wholly so. Her Occlumency lesson had gone quite well...and so had her punishment. What he couldn't quite get out of his head, however, was that four-letter word scrawled on the piece of parchment that sat innocently on her desk: _'love'_.

* * *

_"I don't want your apology. I want your obedience." ― Tara Sue Me_

* * *

**Thanks so much to those of who you have reviewed recently: CharlotteBlackwood, Lady Ravanna, RosiePosie15, Alice Helena, Blerb, Oksanallex, Jehilia, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, marly4077, Khaaotic, EchoSerenade, and three guest users! :D**

**And thanks to everyone for reading as well! **


	69. Part II - Opposing Optimism

Opposing Optimism

_March 2, 1945_

Though the days were getting longer, the sun was already beginning to set when they started into the Forbidden Forest. It was even darker when they had entered the cover of the dense wood, the air still misty from the morning's rainfall. Warren held her hand as they walked together and played the part of a dutiful boyfriend by helping her over fallen trees and guiding her away from puddles.

Rosemary could hear the distant sounds of creatures in the forest, which continued to grow louder and more frequent the deeper they went. After hearing a piercing screech that sounded particularly close, Warren turned to her abruptly and said, "Don't worry – I'm almost certain that was just a bat."

She rolled her eyes when he turned his back to her once more. His nervous tone indicated that _he_ was the one that needed reassurance, not her. Rosemary's grandfather had taught her not to fear the forest when she was quite young; as long as one respected each of its flora and fauna inhabitants, there was little to be alarmed by.

Besides, they were already an hour into their excursion and had yet to see a single animal – much less the elusive Rhayma. Rosemary attributed much of this to Warren's lumbering footsteps and the frequent, merciless twig-snapping that came with them, but held her tongue. It wasn't as though she had actually expected to find a Rhayma anyway. She was along for the fresh air more than anything and it was more than worth it: the smell of the trees, the coolness of the mist…it was heavenly. Nor did she mind Warren's company, especially given the requirement for quietness. It made the usual silence that often fell between them far less noticeable.

Rosemary knew the forest reasonably well (all the major landmarks, at least). From where they were, she could probably find her favorite place in the forest, the waterfall. But she didn't suggest it. It was a place that had been so special to her as a child, but it had taken on a new meaning to her entirely when she had taken Tom to see it just over a year prior. The mere thought of taking Warren to it made her feel ill; she couldn't just take _anyone_ to her favorite place…she didn't even love him. Not even a little, regardless of the beautiful sketches he had gifted her or his sweetness in bringing her to the forest.

Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and put a finger to his lips, signaling her to keep quiet. She followed his gaze and saw a doe and her tiny fawn drinking from a nearby stream. A smile spread across her lips at the sight of the baby. Warren took her hand and began to slowly lead her closer, only to trip over a sizable rock seconds later.

The doe and fawn spooked, of course, and she felt an immediate spark of irritation at Warren. It faded, however, when he brushed himself off and gave her an apologetic look. "I swear…I'm useless when I'm not on a broomstick."

Rosemary had no idea how to respond except to give him a pitying smile.

Warren's face brightened immediately. "I love your smile," he told her. "Actually, I think I love just about everything about you."

Certainly not everything – if he had any clue about the sort of person she really was, she doubted very much that he would have anything to do with her.

Warren pushed her gently against the tree behind her and placed his lips on hers. His hands slipped under her shirt and she let him touch her, primarily out of guilt. Wasn't indulging him a bit the least she could do? After all, not even twelve hours earlier, she had been in Tom's arms and they had done far more than she had Warren would surely do in the forest.

"We should head back," she told him when the feeling of his hands and lips on her began to make her too guilty to bear.

"You're right, it is getting rather dark," Warren nodded. He looked around them, hesitated, and then began walking in the direction opposite of Hogwarts. Clearly, he had no idea where they were.

"It's this way." She gestured down the opposite path. "I think," she added, to spare him the embarrassment.

* * *

It was one of those unfortunate dates that Tom had to allow Dumbledore to accompany him to training to avoid arousing suspicion. He couldn't just use the Vanishing Cabinet every time, after all.

They traveled in complete silence as they walked outside of the Hogwarts gates and Apparated to London, meeting Jennings and Beaumont directly at the training center and forgoing the usual stop at The Leaky Cauldron. The silence was pleasant because of the absolute repulsion he felt every time Dumbledore opened his mouth, but it was impossible to enjoy it completely. He had to be careful to keep his thoughts guarded at all times, which was really quite exhausting.

Tom was shocked at how empty the training facility was when they arrived. Typically each room was occupied, but only the four of them and another team's trainer and competitor appeared to be present. There wasn't even an attendant at the front desk to check them in. Although he didn't want to think about it, he couldn't help but wonder if threatening Raoul to keep them in the Tournament had all been for nothing. Was this a sign that it would really be cancelled?

As usual, Raoul greeted Dumbledore like an old friend he hadn't seen for years. Not even a month before, this would have made his blood boil, but knowing what he did now made him find Raoul's typical schmoozing much less irritating.

Though he certainly wished he knew more. He remained at a bit of a loss about where to begin in terms of learning more information about Dumbledore, but he supposed trailing him would be a good start. For this purpose, he recently enlisted several of the Knights: Adam Lestrange, Abraxas Malfoy, Eric Rosier, and Jason Mulciber. He didn't tell them the real reason, of course - his excuse was that he needed to ensure that the old fool hadn't caught on to them and stayed out of their way during their upcoming attacks on the mudbloods.

Jennings wasted no time in jumping into Tom's training for the evening. They worked through several drills – defensive, then offensive, then defensive again. Carl was an excellent trainer who could come up with something that could even challenge a duelist as great as Tom, but Tom was having a difficult time staying focused on the trainer's drills. Instead, he was straining to hear Dumbledore and Raoul chatting on the sidelines, but he was too far to catch anything besides meaningless snippets.

It didn't take long for Jennings to take notice. "Focus, Riddle," he growled, tossing Tom his usual surly glare.

Eventually, Tom gave up attempting to eavesdrop on their conversation, dialing his attention back to his hour-long session instead. He could always corner Raoul into telling his everything they had spoken about later.

As they were preparing to leave, however, Dumbledore suddenly said, "If you'll pardon my intrusion, Raoul, I am curious as to why you have elected to stay in the Tournament during such perilous times."

Beaumont didn't skip a beat before responding. "I suppose you could say that I am an ardent optimist." Obviously, the real reason that Raoul stayed in the Tournament had nothing at all to do with optimism, but his belief that Grindelwald, Dumbledore, and MAGI all had something to do with each other certainly did.

An optimist. Tom shuddered internally at the word, which he had truly grown to loathe. Optimism carried the insinuation of 'luck' and 'chance' – two concepts that he was entirely repelled by. Although he had gained considerable control over many facets of his life, there were still so many unknowns: Grindelwald, the Tournament, and countless others…Regardless of his planning, everything could slip away in a manner of seconds. He loathed this.

These thoughts were still in the forefront of his mind as he returned to his dormitory that evening. He perked up a bit, however, upon noticing the thin strip of light under Rosemary's door spilling into the dark corridor. He raised his hand to knock, but paused, suddenly realizing his full exhaustion after spending the evening in Dumbledore's presence and being forced to employ such a long bout of Occlumency. He supposed she could use a break anyway – they _had_ been going at it quite consistently in the last couple of days. Besides, there was always tomorrow. He smirked to himself and lowered his hand, retreating to his room for the night.

This development with Rosemary was an accomplishment he was quite proud of. She was wrapped around his finger more than ever and had no trouble giving into him now. He was quite certain that he had made his point after their first Occlumency lesson and that surely there would be no further misunderstandings between them. He was in complete control of her. Though with this thought came a far less satisfying other:

He was in control of her. _At least for now._

* * *

"_It is not life that's complicated, it's the struggle to guide and control life." ― F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

"You missed a great time last night, you know," Faye said suddenly as she glanced up from her collection of photographs of various potential wedding venues that were scattered across her bed. "I haven't seen Markus that fucked up in ages."

Rosemary smiled. Markus was considered by many in the Slytherin house to be the wildest partier, though he had lost a bit of his edge when he had begun dating Becca. She, unlike Rosemary, had actually made some attempts to tame him, though this had only been marginally successful…after all, he was still a drug dealer (and occasional user). "Well, it _was_ his birthday. I suppose he's entitled to have a nice time."

"A bit too nice of a time, some might argue." When Rosemary tossed her friend a quizzical look, she added, "He and Orion broke up."

"_What_?"

This certainly explained his apparent relapse into his old ways…

"Apparently she was trying to find him because she thought he had gotten ill, but she ended up walking in on him groping Talitha Greengrass."

Rosemary winced. "Oh, that's awful!"

The blonde shrugged nonchalantly. "Things run their course. They had been fighting for weeks, you know. And there's no reason to pretend to be upset…now we won't have to socialize with Orion any longer."

She gave Faye an expression of pure shock. "I thought you were genuinely friends with her."

"Not really. I only really put up with her because Markus is Adam's best mate. Don't act so appalled – it's not as though _you_ ever liked her either. She's an annoying twit."

While Rose also doubted she would take it upon herself to maintain her marginal friendship with Becca, she still felt rather awful for her. Not only because Faye was planning to abandon her, but because she had truly cared for Markus and he had just thrown that away. Come to think of it, their situation was not entirely unlike her relationship with Warren…

"Anyway, now that Orion is out of the picture, I _really_ need my best friend back. Won't you come to some of the Slytherin parties again?"

"I don't think that's a very good idea. Tom –"

Faye snorted a laugh. "I can guarantee that Tom would not mind it if you were there. You could even get some flirting in without worrying about Warren catching you…"

Rose glared at her. "Tom and I aren't flirting. In fact, we have absolutely nothing to do with each other."

"Yes, I'm sure – nothing at all." Faye's voice dripped sarcasm. "Especially not a few weeks ago, when you got a bit distracted while working on Slughorn's potion project together."

"It was one time. And a mistake," she lied.

Faye gave her a suspicious look, but eventually abandoned it and released a long sigh. "Look, Rose, I'm happy if you're happy. If Warren truly does that for you, then so be it."

Rosemary forced herself to smile. It hurt to lie to Faye, but it was infinitely better than telling her the horrible truth – what she had done to Warren and the twisted arrangement she now found herself in with Tom. Slipping up and sleeping with Tom once was one thing, but what she had entwined herself with was a whole new level of sin.

She was blatantly aware of how terribly wrong all of this was, of course, but she couldn't help the fact that she was more attracted to him than ever after he had been so commanding with her. As frightening as his sheer power could be, it was also undeniably sexy. At this point, they were having sex even more frequently than they had when they were dating. In addition to their exploits on Wednesday night after their Occlumency lesson, Tom had spent the night on Thursday and they went at it yet again Friday morning before class…and Rosemary had a feeling that she might be seeing him that evening as well.

Though truthfully, her guilt on the matter overall was beginning to fade. It wasn't like she was actually hurting anyone _directly_, per se. And she had finally accepted that Warren would never be enough for her – he was just too…boring. She _liked _the way that Tom put her on edge.

She had come to the conclusion that if she were going to stay with Warren, she would continue to need a distraction like Tom to prevent herself from going completely loony. And maybe that wasn't the worst thing in the world, as long as Warren never found out about it. Perhaps her affair with Tom would even continue far into the future…

But this wouldn't happen. She knew that this was impractical and unsustainable, however. Tom would not continue to waste his time on someone he could never truly possess – she saw that, now. He just didn't realize it yet. But she was now determined to enjoy it while it lasted.

"Will you at least _consider_ coming next time? I really don't want to be forced into socializing with the Slytherin girls...and Adam spends half his time trying to impress Tom."

It seemed risky. What if her sudden reappearance at a Slytherin party started a new round of gossip about her? What would she tell Warren? Of course, her presence didn't necessarily mean she was still involved with Tom, but wouldn't Warren be at least a little suspicious? On the other hand, however, she was undeniably fascinated in this new, party-friendly Tom that she had heard so much about over the last couple of months through Faye. And perhaps more importantly, she _really_ wanted to know whether or not he was still messing around with other girls.

"I don't know…" she hesitated.

Faye's voice suddenly grew irritatingly whiny: "Come on, Rose, please?! I promise I won't meddle and attempt to push you into Tom's arms all night."

Faye looked at her hopefully while Rosemary pondered the request. She knew that she either had to give in somewhat or listen to Faye's continued pestering, so she finally answered, "Okay, okay…I'll think about it."

"Good," Faye smiled in satisfaction. "Now, let's get to work and narrow down this set of venues first."

"This _set_?" Rosemary asked incredulously, eyeing the nearly fifty options that Faye had already laid out to choose from.

"Yes. After this, there are five more sets. I've divided them by their strongest attribute: seating capacity, general aesthetics, a premier location…"

What was even the point of having a wedding planner if she was going through all this trouble herself? How could Faye keep all of the details straight? After all, this was just the venue…there were also the guest list, catering, and a million other tiny decisions to consider.

Was this what it would be like to plan _her_ wedding?

Yes, of course it would, especially given her mother's constant fussing. Rosemary's head began to throb just thinking about it.

* * *

With the thoughts of weddings still spinning around in her head as she made her way back to her dormitory after her morning with Faye, she was rather relieved when Tom's door suddenly opened and he beckoned her inside. There was nothing like a nice romp with him to take her mind off the future.

They were undressed in minutes, tossing about beneath his blankets and kissing furiously, pausing for only a few seconds at a time to gasp for air. In these moments she found herself forgetting everything associated with the reality of her life; all she knew was that Tom wanted her and _oh Merlin_ did she want him too. She couldn't help but feel inexplicably happy at the fact that they seemed unable to get enough of each other as of late.

A knock at Tom's door pulled them abruptly from the current moment. "Are you expecting someone?" she whispered into his ear.

There was no need for speculation, however. After a second round of knocking, they heard, "Tom – it's Horace. Do you have a moment?"

Oh, the joys of being Head Girl and Boy. Professors could (and often did) call on them whenever they pleased for a number of reasons ranging from running trivial errands throughout the castle to checking on a house to dealing with emergency situations

He jumped out of bed and began to dress. "Yes, I'll be right there!"

Tom gathered Rosemary's clothing from the floor and threw it all in her direction as she hurriedly got out of bed and dashed into the lavatory attached to his room. Rosemary heard his door creak open and she began to dress quietly.

"Good afternoon, Sir," she heard Tom greet him with his infallibly smooth voice. "How can I help you?"

It was then that she realized her knickers were nowhere to be found. An exceptionally mortifying thought flashed through her mind immediately: had Slughorn spotted them beside Tom's bed on the floor where she had last seen them? While there was nothing to suggest that they were _hers_ and Tom would have far more of a reason to be mortified than she did, simply knowing that Slughorn had seen them would automatically disqualify them from future use.

"Have you seen Miss Horton this afternoon? I had hoped to speak with her after she finished her rounds with Miss Scout, but according to Scout, she never reported. Nor did she appear to be in her dormitory…"

_Shit. _She _thought_ she had been forgetting something. Well, besides her knickers.

"I'm sorry, I haven't seen her," Tom answered plainly.

"Ah, well. The reason I ask is that I was hoping to begin my investigation into the illicit potion this evening, as we discussed at our meeting earlier in the week. Would you still be willing to help?"

"Of course, Sir," Tom said.

"Excellent. Well, come by my office after dinner, then, and do invite Miss Horton along if you, er, happen to see her."

What was that odd tone at the end of the Potion Master's sentence? Did he _know_ she was there?

"I will, Professor."

Rosemary heard Slughorn leave and she was almost through buttoning her blouse when Tom opened the door to the lavatory and smirked at her. "Skipping rounds now, are we?"

She pushed past him and scanned his dormitory for her missing undergarment.

"Looking for these?" He smirked at her and pulled the lacy black cloth out of his front pocket.

"Did Slughorn –"

"No."

She snatched them from his outstretched hand, wholly relieved that Slughorn hadn't seen them. Thought it wasn't like it would have mattered anyway, apparently; judging by his suspicious, half-amused tone, Slughorn had a fairly good idea that she and Tom were still seeing each other.

But in this moment, that was the least of her concerns. That evening, she would be expected to help him deduce the origin of _her_ illicit potion. She was terrified, but she supposed that this was also an opportunity to gain the upper hand on the situation. At least she would know the moment that he found something. In this situation, it was surely better to have more information about what he knew than to know nothing at all.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked her amusedly.

"I'm going to take a bath, go to dinner, and then report to Slughorn's office. I'll see you later," she told him briskly on the way to the door, half-expecting the lock to click into place in front of her and for Tom to insist they finish what they started. When these things didn't happen, she paused at his door and turned to him just long enough to say, "We can resume…another time."

She was thankful that he let her go without argument. Rose knew she had to mentally prepare herself for dealing with whatever it was that Slughorn might deduce as well as the meeting that was sure to occur within the next day or two with Dippet regarding her absence during rounds.

An eerie feeling of intuition told her that things were about to become _much_ more complicated.

* * *

**Thank you to my lovely reviewers, as always: New Suit Blue Tie, Oksanallex, Alice Helena, EchoSerenade, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, Blerb, RosiePosie15, CharlotteBlackwood, Lady Ravanna, marly4077, and eight Guest users!**

**So, I've arrived at the point in the quarter where I think I'll have to drop things down to one chapter a week instead of every 4-5 days. I spend approx. 10-15 hours writing per chapter, which can be pretty difficult to balance with papers/projects/other commitments. On the bright side, it's only temporary.(: Thanks so much for your continued patience and readership!**


	70. Part II - The Sharing Sort

The Sharing Sort

_March 3, 1945_

Rosemary was grateful she had come up with an excuse for missing her rounds when she saw Dippet coming her way during dinner.

"Good evening, Miss Horton." He stood before her and gave her an expectant look.

"Evening, Headmaster. I apologize for missing my rounds –"

Faye looked at her suspiciously from across the table as she delivered her carefully rehearsed excuse – that she had been studying in the library since that morning and had fallen asleep, only to realize she had missed her rounds. Although she knew she had been convincing enough, she envied Tom's natural ease in lying, a feat she had observed countless times to essentially every member of the Hogwarts staff since the establishment of his anti-muggle-born group.

"– and it won't happen again, Sir, I assure you. I've already spoken to Mary Ann to apologize and inform her that I'll be taking on one of her rounds next week to repay her."

Dippet looked stern, but pleased. "I appreciate your proactive behavior, though I trust that you know better than to make a habit of this."

"Of course, Sir," she nodded and smiled at him pleasantly.

"So what was the _real _reason you decided to skip rounds?" Faye asked her through narrowed eyes. "Because when you left my dormitory this morning, you had every intention of going."

"It slipped my mind, that's all." Rosemary shrugged nonchalantly.

"It 'slipped your mind'? Rose, things like rounds don't just 'slip your mind' – that's why you're Head Girl." Faye gave her and incredulous look and then sighed. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

Rosemary laughed and stood from the table. "There's nothing to tell. Anyway, I'm due at Slughorn's office. See you later!" She strode briskly toward the dungeons in hopes that she would make it out of the Great Hall before the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team came in for dinner after practice. There was far too much on her mind to deal with a run-in with Warren at the moment.

She stepped into the Potions classroom and was hit with the sickly sweet smell of ECB. Slughorn had set out a dozen mini-cauldrons throughout the room, each half-full with the liquid – a testament to the sheer amount that had been confiscated. After only a second or two of inhaling the aroma, she began to feel remarkably calm and lightheaded: symptoms that the drug was already going to work on her. She had never experienced such a thing during her brewing of it, likely because she had only ever made very small batches at a time.

"You'll want a Bubble-Head Charm, dear," Slughorn told her from where he stood with Tom at the front of the room.

She nodded and casted one on herself, though the easing effects of the drug continued to linger. Perhaps that wasn't the worst thing in the world, though, considering what she was about to get herself into. She could use all the 'ease' she could get.

"Essentially we'll be performing a variety of techniques such as distillation, extraction, product suspension, and so on, though I'm almost certain that this procedure will prove to be far more challenging than those that we've completed in class," Slughorn began when she joined them at the front of the Potions classroom. "It is clear that this is a _very _intricate, sophisticated potion."

Wrong as it might be, Rosemary couldn't help but feel a glimmer of pride at the professor's words. And, strangely enough given the circumstances, the prospect of putting several of the techniques she had learned throughout her Potions education at Hogwarts to work was undeniably exciting to her.

"As you can see, I've set out samples of the potion throughout the room so that we can work through the various techniques concurrently. Miss Horton, I recall that you have a particular aptitude for extractions – perhaps you could start there? Tom, why don't you begin with product suspensions?"

They dove into the work straight away. Though Rosemary was keenly aware of the fact that she was working against herself, she was enjoying it immensely. She was working beside her favorite professor, not even as a student, but a near-colleague; Slughorn kept calling her over every so often to gauge her opinion of each test's results.

Rosemary found it easy to let herself get lost in the work. Unlike brewing in Myrtle's irritating presence in the girls' lavatory, Slughorn's classroom offered little non-potion related distractions. For the first time in what felt like months, she felt a true release – a moment of solace that her worries about getting caught or Warren or even Tom could not disturb.

* * *

Tom could certainly think of better uses of his time, but he supposed that this project was essential to maintain his rapport with Slughorn. Besides, it was quite entertaining to watch Rosemary while being perfectly aware how uncomfortable she must be. She was doing well to hide it, of course, but he knew better; surely she was on pins and needles wondering when any of them would find something that drew Slughorn to the source of the potion.

In fact, she was doing such a good job hiding her panic that Tom found himself captivated watching her work, a luxury he could rarely afford during their paired potions in class because of the concentration they often required. It was fascinating to see her deliberate, precise movements – a well-orchestrated production of stirs, additions, and occasional testing. At this rate, he didn't find it unlikely that she might very well create her own downfall.

"You're going to get yourself caught," Tom couldn't resist telling her under his breath with a smirk as he worked near her at an adjacent table.

She gave him a sour look and made a point to step on his foot on her way to show Slughorn the results of her latest extraction.

He was delighting in putting her on edge because she had no reason to be. Though Tom was fairly certain that Slughorn knew at least a bit of Legilimency based on previous encounters, he also knew that the professor had no reason to suspect Rosemary. Even if they elucidated all the ingredients, there would be no evidence to connect _her_ to the potion. Unless, of course, the Ministry happened to find whoever it was that was providing Rosemary with her supplies. In addition, she had maintained a pristine reputation in the face of all of the school's faculty members – well, until that afternoon when she skipped rounds, he supposed.

Tom was suddenly hit with the same realization that had struck him the night she had Obliviated Warren:

They really _weren't_ all that different.

After all, she was using her position as a Prefect (and more recently, Head Girl) to engage in frivolity and illicit brewing – for fun. She abused her power, much like he did. Though Tom's reasons for doing so were, in his mind at least, far more worthwhile.

Tom thought back to the announcement of the Head Boy and Girl positions the year prior and how elated he had been to hear that Rosemary had been chosen. He had been so sure that, together, they would control the entirety of the Hogwarts student body. Though he had basically accomplished this on his own through the formation of the Knights, it was admittedly disappointing that she hadn't had much of a role in it.

But perhaps that would change. She appeared to be increasingly drawn to him, despite his worries that his hold over her would be only temporary…maybe she would join his cause after all.

This brought other questions to the surface, though. What exactly _did_ he want with her? The sex was certainly enjoyable, but it was obviously more than that. He wanted her to join him and his cause very badly. She wasn't versed in dueling, but she could be valuable in countless other capacities; he would keep her secrets and she would keep his – much like they were doing already. He wanted someone he could trust – even more than Dolohov, his most loyal Knight. He wanted what only Rosemary could provide him: an equal.

Or at least as close to one as he could ever hope to find.

But even if he got what he wanted and she joined him, what would happen when they graduated? What about when she inevitably folded to her parents' wishes and married that insufferable twat? And what if she changed her mind – what if she regained the self-respect he had seen in her initially and chose to abandon her parents' restricted aspirations for her?

Why did the prospect of this even matter to him anyway? Because it certainly did, that was without question – but did that mean he actually cared for her? Did that mean, Merlin forbid, he wanted to _be_ with her?

No, of course not. He had come to the conclusion months ago that he would always be better off alone. It would be foolish to open himself to something as unnecessary as love. _Love_ wouldn't accomplish his increasingly ambitious goals, it would merely get in the way.

There he was, obsessing about the unknowns again. And an obsession it certainly was – he couldn't seem to go more than a few hours before one of these questions popped into his head yet again. He kept telling himself none of it mattered, that he was still adjusting to their relatively new balance of pleasure and power, but he couldn't completely drown out the tiny part of him that knew it _did_ matter. It was a phenomenon he simply couldn't explain.

In fact, the only thing that made sense at all any longer was the feeling of her skin against his.

"Bollucks," Slughorn suddenly announced, yanking Tom's mind away from the chasm of dirty thoughts involving Rosemary that had momentarily tempted him. "I completely lost track of time and I was supposed to be upstairs five minutes ago for a staff meeting. I know we're nearing curfew, but would you mind staying around and monitoring the tests until I get back?"

He and Rosemary both agreed to stay and Slughorn hurriedly took off. Tom half-expected the professor to toss a knowing glance in his direction at the prospect of leaving the two of them alone, but he was relieved when this didn't happen.

They continued to work in silence, trading off between observing their own set of potions and Slughorn's. Without a professor present to impress, Tom was quickly growing bored of the work. While he certainly didn't mind potions, it was impossible for him to summon the same enthusiasm that Rosemary displayed. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this boredom allowed his thoughts to drift once more to more sensual themes. So much so that the sexual tension in the room was nearly palpable, particularly in their silence.

Tom walked across the classroom and into the small room that housed Slughorn's ingredients stores, glancing around for the merpeople scales that would allow him to test for a variety of water-derived components in ECB. He spotted them on the bottom shelf of the closet and suddenly a grand idea sparked in his mind. Tom spoke to her through the partially-cracked door: "Horton, have you seen the dried merpeople scales? I can't seem to locate them."

"They're not out here," she answered a few seconds later. Then she joined him, her scent immediately filling the small space. "Did you even look? They're right here," Rosemary gave him an annoyed look before bending over to retrieve the jar from the bottom shelf.

Tom watched the hem of her skirt slide up the back of her thighs, past her stockings, revealing a tiny glimpse at her knickers. He quickly ran through the arithmetic of how long they likely had before Slughorn would return in his head and, satisfied with the result, reached out to her, slipping his hand under her skirt and running his fingers across her bum.

She froze. "What are you doing?"

"You did say we would resume later," he told her, as his hand traveled over her hip and the top of her thighs.

She suddenly stood and gave him an incredulous look over her shoulder. "Really, you think right _now_ is the appropriate time? Slughorn could come back any moment."

He knew it was wrong– very wrong– especially when they both had perfectly fine dormitories that they could fuck in just a couple of hours later. But he didn't want to wait…he wanted her that very second. And, if he was being completely honest with himself, the prospect of fucking her outside of the privacy of their dormitories was undoubtedly stimulating for some odd reason.

Maybe Cramer would even walk in on them again…

Tom drew his wand just long enough to lift the Bubble-Head charms on each of them. Then he took a step toward her, effectively closing the space between them, and relished the warmth that her natural body heat provided. The telling bulge in his trousers pressed against her lower back, just at the top of her bum, and he felt her tense slightly. He had been hard the moment she walked into the storage room, hardly a surprising feat as his thoughts had kept him about halfway there for at least the past hour or so.

"Come on, Horton, we'll be finished before Dippet even concludes his opening remarks." He knew she couldn't argue with him on that – the aged Headmaster was a notoriously slow speaker.

Rosemary seemed to give this some thought and relaxed a bit and he took this as permission to reach around her body and dip his finger between her thighs and begin stroking her most sensitive area in controlled, deliberate circles. She let out a small moan and Tom his other hand reached up to stroke her neck before trailing it down her chest and under the collar of her blouse, worming his fingers underneath the fabric of her brassiere to play with her nipples.

"You're an animal," she breathed.

Tom smirked and muttered into her ear, "Is that a complaint? Last I checked you quite fancied everything I do to you." He moved her knickers aside to begin stroking her opening and he felt her shiver in pleasure. "Isn't that right?"

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back against his shoulder. "I suppose so."

"You _suppose_ so?" He clicked his tongue once. "That won't do." With that, he pressed his finger inside of her and she moaned in response.

"Tell me," he commanded her. "Tell me you adore the way I fuck you." A surge of lust ran through him as he felt her clench around his finger.

"I do."

"No," he scolded her gently. "Say it."

"I love the way you fuck me," she whimpered. Then, as if his touch had forced her to lose complete control, added, "I yearn for it."

And as her words filled his ears, he certainly yearned for her, too. He wanted to take her– consume her– in the most savage way possible.

When Tom was satisfied with her wetness, he spun her toward the wall and sandwiched her against it with his body. He hungrily pulled her knickers down to her knees and lifted her skirt while kissing the side of her neck so passionately that his teeth frequently skimmed across her flesh.

Rosemary gasped as he pressed all the way into her without warning, unable to take it any longer, but he would not apologize for his fervor. It was only a few seconds of pain that would surely be followed by many more of pleasure. Besides, they were supposed to be in a rush, weren't they?

The small room quickly grew sweltering from the body heat generated between the two of them and soon he had lost track of how long they had been going at it. As much as he was enjoying it, his better judgment told him that it was time to begin wrapping things up.

He thrusted faster and harder, her moans urging him on. Finally she came and he felt every movement of her tight walls around him.

"Oh fuck," he groaned into her ear, his fingers digging into her thighs as he gave into the release as well. He kissed her briefly as he finished, but soon pulled away to catch his breath.

Without another word, they fixed their disheveled hair and clothes and reapplied their Bubble-Head Charms before returning to work in the classroom. Just in time, apparently – not even five minutes later, they heard the doorknob turning.

After about ten minutes of listening to Slughorn rant about the staff meeting, he asked to see their notes from that evening's work. He and Rosemary handed their findings to the professor and he slipped on his glasses, gazing at the parchment sheets pensively for a few moments. "It's a start. Definitely a start. Excellent, _excellent_ work you two. I'll send the list of what we've come up with so far to the Ministry tomorrow morning so they can begin inquiring at shops about sales of these ingredients."

Tom watched Rosemary's face become just slightly paler.

Slughorn beamed at them both, oblivious to her reaction. "Why don't we plan to resume next weekend and we can tailor our investigation to the feedback the Ministry will hopefully give us by then?"

"That sounds splendid, Sir," Tom said cheerily, knowing full well that it would only serve to antagonize Rosemary further.

She was silent as they walked side by side back to their respective dormitories and Tom knew she was drowning in her worries over getting caught. And he still thought she was being foolish about it; a list of potion ingredients meant nothing, especially not in the hands of incompetent Ministry employees.

So of course he would continue giving her a hard time over it: "I do hope you'll write to inform me about what Azkaban is like."

She glared at him. "You're such a prick."

Tom ignored her and smirked. "I truly hope that I have the opportunity to see your parents' faces when they find out."

"Are you going to help me or not?" Her glare persisted. "How did you get out of Hogwarts when you bought the potion ingredients to repay me?"

"And why are you so eager to get out of the castle? Trying to run before they arrest you? You know they'll catch you, Horton…"

"No, you git. I have to warn Jas-…I mean my supplier."

Tom smirked to himself and put his hands in his pockets. "Now that's _very_ interesting…the girl who insulted me less than a minute ago wants a favor."

"Isn't it worth the one I'll owe you?"

_That_ certainly piqued his interest. He stopped in the corridor outside the Trophy Room and turned to face her. "And just what are you willing to offer me?"

He watched her swallow and say somewhat nervously, "Whatever you want. Just get me out of Hogwarts."

She really was serious. But even so, he wasn't sure he wanted to help her. It wasn't as though he thought she would abuse the Vanishing Cabinet if she knew about it; rather, the thought of her arriving in Borgin and Burkes and traveling through Knockturn Alley after dark made him feel rather sick to his stomach. He was surprised at himself for worrying about her, especially after his self-proclaimed loathing of her only weeks prior. Things had changed so quickly.

"I'll help you," he said finally. "But I'm coming with you."

She shook her head. "No…I don't think so."

"I have the leverage in this situation, Miss Horton, not you," he reminded her.

Rosemary stared at him for a long time, before finally releasing a defeated sigh. "Fine."

* * *

Though she had fought him on it at first, Rose was glad that Tom was with her to escort her from through Knockturn Alley. When he initially insisted upon coming along, she thought it had been out of his own curiosity, but as they walked briskly through the dimly lit streets, she realized that he might have been genuinely concerned for her safety. The thought made her feel lightheaded and probably would have made her smile uncontrollably had it not been for her current level of stress.

When they reached Diagon Alley, she turned to Tom. "Would you mind waiting here?" The last thing she needed was for Tom to know even more details about her involvement with ECB...particularly the fact that she was working for Jasper Donohue.

He nodded coolly and stepped into the shadows of a nearby building, while Rosemary pulled the hood of her cloak over her head to avoid being spotted by anyone in Diagon Alley who might know her – which, given her father's renown was a potentially considerable number of people.

As she stepped into the main drag, however, she realized there was little need to worry. The streets were far emptier than she had expected, given the consideration that it was nine on a weeknight. In fact, it was even worse than when she had visited Jasper over the holiday, the night he had initially proposed her involvement in his venture. Briefly, it made her wonder – would Grindelwald ever actually be stopped?

Mr. Mulpepper's was closed for the evening, but she let herself in through the unlocked door when she saw Jasper behind the front counter.

His eyes flashed with alarm as he looked up at her. "Evening, Rose," he greeted her. She watched as he glanced nervously down the attached corridor to the offices that housed the various products that were not yet ready for sale. Perhaps another employee was still in the store and Jasper was nervous about being overheard. Still, there was no time to waste.

"I need to talk to you…" she stepped close to the counter and whispered. "It's about, you know, the potion…"

"Now is not a good time, Rose. You should go," Jasper said quietly.

"No – it's really important," she whispered again, more urgently this time. "Slughorn, he's investigating the potion…"

She followed Jasper's gaze as it drifted back toward the offices once more. She hadn't heard the nearest door open, but standing in the doorframe was a familiar face.

"_Rose_?"

She sighed. "Hello, Markus." Apparently she had come by just as Markus was picking up another batch of ECB.

"You're – you…_what_?"

"Yes," she nodded.

Markus shook his head in disbelief and Rosemary turned back to Jasper. She didn't whisper this time, now confident that he had just been trying to protect her from Markus discovering her involvement. "Look, Slughorn knows what's in ECB – he started his own investigation this evening."

He didn't even blink. "So?"

"What do you mean, '_so'_? I was just there and he told me that he's reporting it to the Ministry tomorrow morning and is going to insist they conduct an investigation of apothecary sales right away…and there are only so many shops that sell the ingredients."

Jasper tossed her an annoyed glare. "Come on, do you think I'm a complete bloody idiot? Nothing that I've sent you has gone through our inventory system. It's untraceable."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Look, Rose, I know your heart is in the right place but why don't you let the professionals handle it," Jasper sneered.

Rosemary turned red, surprised at such a snappy response from someone who was generally so laid-back. She avoided Jasper's eyes and glanced instead at Markus, who continued to stand in silence and stare at her dumbly.

"Sorry," Jasper sighed after a few long, awkward seconds. "It's been a stressful week. Perhaps you should take a break from working on the potion for now, with Slughorn so keen on it. You've already made vast improvements anyway. Markus says there haven't been nearly as many kids in the Infirmary."

She nodded. A chance to get out of her arrangement with Jasper was the best she had wished for after an entire evening of worrying over whether or not she would get caught. Relief quickly spread over her, though it didn't completely displace the feeling of discomfort at Jasper's nonchalance on the matter.

"Now get out of here before you're spotted – both of you."

Rosemary nodded again and left in silence with Markus following close behind. Once outside, she made a beeline for a nearby awning and lit a cigarette.

Markus lit one of his own as well. "I still can't believe it. You –Rosemary Horton…ECB…It just doesn't make sense."

"Yes, well, we all have our secrets don't we?" Rosemary snapped, still a bit worked up after Jasper's blasé response. While she desperately wanted to believe that he had everything under control, she couldn't stop the sliver of doubt that kept entering her mind. If anyone found out what she did, she wouldn't just be _expelled_ – she would be sent to Azkaban.

Why hadn't she thought this through more? Given her newfound understanding of the gravity of the situation, she was relieved that Jasper told her to cease brewing for a while. She would go to Myrtle's bathroom and clean up her things first thing in the morning.

"I hope it's understood that you can't tell _anyone_ about this."

Markus smirked and gave her a look that said _'obviously.'_

Rose took a long drag and felt her expression soften. "I was sorry to hear about you and Becca. Are you doing alright?"

"Of course," he answered haughtily, though there was a twinge of defensiveness in his voice that made her think he wasn't being entirely honest with her. "We just want different things, that's all."

"Did you break it to your parents yet?" Rosemary asked. Though pureblood boys were put under far less pressure to marry than girls, it was still there nonetheless.

He shook his head.

Rosemary didn't broach the subject further. It was clear he didn't want to talk about it, which was understandable enough.

"You smell like sex," Markus blurted suddenly.

"Is it that noticeable?" she asked in a panic-stricken voice. Oh, Merlin…had Slughorn noticed?

_No._ _Thank goodness for the Bubble-Head Charm…_

"Sort of," he shrugged. "Wait a second – didn't you say you just come from Slughorn's? Oh Rose, please tell me you didn't –"

Rosemary slapped his arm. "Fucking hell, Markus - no! Tom was there!" Then she clapped her hand over her mouth, in disbelief of what she just admitted to him.

Markus stopped in his tracks and stared at her blankly for a few moments before suddenly doubling over in laughter.

Her face turned bright red. "It's not funny," she hissed. "And don't you dare tell anyone – not Faye, not Adam…no one."

"No wonder he's been in such a bloody good mood lately," Markus managed between his ongoing fit of laughter. "What's the plan, then – are you going to elope right after graduation, like before?"

"Tom and I don't have a future," she said hollowly. "My fate is with Warren, you know that."

Markus stopped laughing. "Hold on a second – so you _are_ actually dating Cramer still?"

"Yes."

"Does Riddle know that?"

"Yes," she repeated.

Markus gazed at her in an expression that could only be described as pure horror. "Oh Merlin, Rose…That has to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard. He is _not_ a sharing sort of person."

She shrugged. "He doesn't seem to have that much of a problem with it."

He looked at her skeptically, and then shrugged. "Well, I can certainly understand him wanting to keep his options open…Bloody hell, you would not _believe_ what some of these girls can do."

"I'm fairly certain I do not want to know. Glad to know you're taking the time to really get over Becca before fucking around with the rest of the Slytherin house. What has it been, twenty-four hours?" Rose glared at him.

Was Markus right? Was Tom only okay with their arrangement because he was still messing around with the Slytherin girls?

"Judge me all you want, love, but at least I know what I want," he winked at her and flicked his cigarette to the ground.

That certainly shut her up for a moment.

"Do you realize what kind of predicament you've put me in by telling me this?" Markus asked her suddenly. "Riddle's going to know that I know…sometimes I swear that he can read minds."

'_That's because he can_,' she thought, but held her tongue. There was no reason to make Markus as paranoid as she still happened to be on this particular matter.

* * *

_"Some secrets are better left at that - __as secrets." ― Candace Bushnell_

* * *

**Today marks the one-year anniversary of when I first began publishing TDLR (at least in my time zone)! Thank you so much to all of you that have read/followed/favorited/reviewed this fic. Knowing that you are reading and (hopefully) enjoying my story is so encouraging. Thanks again. (':**

**My apologies to my lovely reviewers for not replying to your comments yet - this week was essentially the busiest of the quarter and I just wanted to get this chapter posted ASAP. I'll be in touch soon! Anyway, thank you to EchoSerenade, Blerb, Lady Ravanna, RosiePosie15, marly4077, Lexi, gr8rockstarrox, CharlotteBlackwood, Oksanallex, and ****five guest users.**

**Next time we'll be revisiting what's been going on with the Knights! And Rosemary is going to have an eventful evening of her own as well...**


	71. Part II - Love Game

Love Game

_March 16, 1945_

A week ago, when _The Prophet _published an article estimating Grindelwald's numbers– somewhere upwards of one hundred spread across eight countries– the necessity to train his followers and ensure their loyalty became more pertinent than ever.

And so, he had presented each of the newcomers with a task: torture a mudblood. Tom didn't care if it was physically, mentally, or emotionally, so long as they followed his orders and didn't get caught. He had been looking forward to hearing their detailed reports of the events after his meeting with the staff regarding this sudden resurgence of the blood elitists in Hogwarts.

If Dippet and the professors had specific names in mind as suspects, they didn't clue him in during their meeting that morning. Of course, Tom was blatantly aware that Dumbledore suspected _him_, but the shield he kept on his thoughts prevented the old fool from knowing for certain. Nor did he have to worry about Rosemary unintentionally giving him away through her thoughts, as she had missed the meeting in order to cover MaryAnn Scout's rounds.

At the same time, however, her absence had been a bit of a disappointment. While surely she had heard rumors of the attacks, he wanted her to know the full scale of what he and his followers had accomplished.

And once again he found himself standing in front of a full room of his Knights, fantasizing about her sitting among them.

"It's certainly been an eventful week." The chatter in the room died immediately as Tom began to address them. "I must say, I'm very impressed by what I've heard so far. But let's hear the full story from each of you." He surveyed the faces of the new members, most of which were in Rosemary's House. Some of them looked quite eager to share while a few appeared to be rather nervous. Tom called them one by one, deciding to use their last names instead of assigning a codename for each of them – that would wait until they sufficiently proven themselves to him.

The three new Slytherin girls had teamed up to torment a group of Gryffindor mudbloods all week and Carina Bulstrode proudly announced that they would continue their mocking until at least one of the mudbloods was driven to a suicide attempt. Then Belby and MacDougal spoke of the advanced curses they had used against a couple of fellow Ravenclaws. Tom praised the work of each of them, before moving on to those who looked less eager to share.

"Brocklehurst?"

Tom was expecting little from the small, gawky fourth-year, who was clearly a bit of a recluse. In fact, until the week prior when he was first brought to a Knights meeting, Tom hadn't known of his existence. The mousy haired boy pushed his ill-fitting glasses up his nose and began to speak in a barely-audible voice. "I cursed a mudblood as well, Sir."

_Sir._ Tom smirked – the kid was already winning points.

"What sort of curse?" Tom prompted him, expecting to hear something relatively innocuous.

He saw Brocklehurst's lips move in a whisper.

"Speak up," he told him. Clearly the boy was embarrassed for not performing the assigned task as well as some of the other newcomers. Tom sighed internally, preparing himself for the disappointment…

"The Cruciatus."

Tom stared at Brocklehurst in disbelief for a few moments, as did everyone else in the room. "Are you certain?" was all Tom could manage.

"Quite certain, Sir. I've studied it extensively in my spare time," the boy chirped.

Tom still wasn't sure he believed him, but a quick bout of Legilimency told him that Brocklehurst was, in fact, telling the truth. Tom was thrilled.

"You see, everyone…_this _is the type of motivation you should all be striving for." He gestured for the boy to rise and clapped him on the shoulder. The Knights let out a few cheers and applause. Out of the corner of his eye, Tom saw Brocklehurst looking up at him in utter awe.

He gestured for the boy to take a seat again and looked around at the poor remaining few that would have to follow such an impressive reveal. Then again, perhaps they would pleasantly surprise him, if Brocklehurst had been any indication…

"Davies, I haven't heard any news of your pursuits this week. What have you done to further our cause?"

The Ravenclaw avoided Tom's eyes as he opened his mouth to speak. "Well, I-er…I grade papers sometimes for Professor Beery's second-year Herbology course as part of my Prefect duties…so this week I handed out a 'Dreadful' mark to at least half the mudbloods in the class."

He heard a snort of laughter from Avery's direction, but Tom wasn't laughing. In fact, he was enraged. With Grindelwald's growing numbers, Tom didn't have the time to waste on those who would not take their missions seriously.

"What exactly was the assignment I gave you last weekend?" he asked Davies in a deceptively calm voice.

"To harm a mudblood…"

"No –" Tom cut him off harshly, "– to _torture_ a mudblood." Davies stared nervously up at him as he began to slowly pace back and forth across the room. "You see, I think you're confused, Davies. While I encourage using your role as Prefect to further our purposes, handing out a few bad marks does _not_ constitute torture. Brocklehurst certainly had the right idea…" There were a few scattered cheers to celebrate that evening's unlikely hero once again.

"I apologize for my confusion," Davies said quickly. "I can try again this week–"

"But it's not just confusion, is it?" Tom suddenly crossed the room and stopped about a foot in front of Davies. He looked down at him and smirked when he saw the Ravenclaw swallow nervously. "It's weakness. You were too weak to complete the mere task of torturing a mudblood. We have no use in our ranks for such pitiful inaction – isn't that right?" He glanced around at the others and was met with a mixture of both nods and voiced affirmation. "So tell me, Davies, are you weak?"

The Prefect's voice shook slightly as he answered, "No."

"I'm not convinced. Are _you_ convinced?" he asked the Knights.

"No!" They shouted in near-unison.

Tom smirked. "I will, however, grant you the opportunity to prove yourself once more. Perhaps I was too ambiguous in my original directions. But no matter – allow me to provide you an example of what I mean when I say _torture_. Come, Brocklehurst."

The room suddenly grew silent, as if everyone was holding their breath…as though they each knew what exactly was about to happen. Davies certainly did. Tom could tell from the unrestrained terror in his eyes.

Brocklehurst stood and gingerly approached Tom.

"Draw your wand," he told the boy.

Brocklehurst looked up at him for a split second with that same look of awe and then back down at Davies. He didn't wait for Tom's next command before saying, "_Crucio_."

Sadistic laughter rippled through the crowd as Davies yelped in pain. Though Tom would have enjoyed the show immensely, he focused his attention instead on the form of Brocklehurst's curse. It was good – quite good, in fact – but there was always room for improvement. Tom smirked.

The kid was no Rosemary, but he had certainly found the newest addition to his inner circle.

* * *

Rosemary surveyed the abundant table of alcohol for a bottle of gin.

"You're going to have to choose eventually, you know," Faye said from beside her while she refilled her glass with Ogden's Old Firewhiskey.

"Not much of a choice..." Rose sighed when she was unable to spot her favorite liquor. "Brandy it is, I suppose."

"Sorry about the gin…they've stopped stocking it since you haven't been to our parties in a while and you're really the only one who likes it. But that's not exactly what I meant." Faye laughed. "What I meant, was: you're going to have to choose between _Tom and Warren_."

"How many times do I have to tell you, Faye? There's absolutely nothing going on between T-"

Faye put her hand up. "Save it for your boyfriend, Rosie. Markus told me."

_I swear I'm going to murder that bastard…_

Rose sighed and downed half her glass of brandy. It was bound to be a long night.

Faye took Rosemary's hand and led her over to the couch. There were a few other girls scattered throughout the common room, but Rose knew that the others would come down from their dormitories as soon as the boys arrived: the boys (and a few girls, according to Faye), that were in the middle of a meeting with Tom.

Faye looked at her pointedly. "You're completely mad for him still. I know it. And I get that you're probably mad for Warren too– he does have a Quidditch Captain's body, after all– and that your parents' opinion complicates things even more…But I don't think it's possible to truly love two people at once. I don't think you're daft enough to believe that, either. So at some point, you'll have to choose. What I said before still stands, though...if you're happy, I'm happy." Then Faye narrowed her eyes. "But no more lying to me about it."

Rosemary nodded allowing Faye's surprisingly supportive words sink in. She was right about most of it, of course, except for her suggestion that Rose was in love with Warren. But this obviously wasn't the only factor in her 'decision' between Tom and Warren anyway. There was the issue of her parents, as Faye alluded to, but other considerations as well. Perhaps most importantly, there was her uncertainty about how Tom felt for her – did he just see her as someone to have sex with on (frequent) occasion? Or was it more? By now she had come to terms with her own feelings, but he remained entirely unreadable. It seemed pointless to make a decision at all until Tom's feelings on the matter became more apparent.

She glanced up at Markus' and Adam's door warily, wondering what exactly was going on behind it. There had been several incidents regarding muggle-born students throughout the week and knew it was surely Tom's doing, either through his own devices or by command of someone else's.

Rosemary knew what they were doing was wrong, but any guilt from being complicit in his actions by failing to turn him in continued to elude her. She _had_ been raised to look down upon the muggle-born population, but something told her it was more than that. After dating Tom for several months, she had heard his views on the muggle-born wizards and witches multiple times. And though she knew he was a bit of an extremist, he spoke with such a firm sense of persuasion that made her feel foolish for thinking any aspect of his beliefs were wrong.

Still, Rosemary couldn't help but wonder about how Myrtle, the only muggle-born she actually interacted with regularly, had taken the news. Perhaps she would drop by to visit her later that weekend, like she had promised the ghost when she went to collect her brewing supplies. But even the thought began to give her a headache. She knew Myrtle would use the attacks as an excuse to talk about her own death, a tale she had heard innumerable times over the past several weeks.

_Huh. Myrtle._

A disturbing thought had suddenly occurred to her: if Myrtle had died that year instead of two years prior, she genuinely would have suspected Tom to be behind it. How odd, she thought, that _he_ had been the one to turn in the half-giant. Rosemary began feeling sick to her stomach.

'_Coincidence. Just a coincidence_,_'_ she assured herself, pushing the thought from her mind.

"Have you ever gone?" she asked Faye, still looking up toward the dormitory.

"No," said Faye, with a roll of her eyes and a sip of her Firewhiskey. "I asked Adam if I could, just out of curiosity, but he didn't seem to think it was a good idea – said I would probably find a way to piss off Riddle within the first fifteen seconds."

"You probably would," Rosemary smirked.

"I know." Faye smiled, almost proudly.

* * *

Tom blinked when he opened the door to the Slytherin common room, started down the stairs, and spotted Rosemary sitting on one of the couches next to Donohue. He might have thought he was hallucinating if the Knights hadn't begun giving him nervous glances, likely wondering if there would be a standoff between the two exes and whether or not he would make her leave the party.

Tom, however, had no intention of giving her a reason to leave. After all, this was it – this was his opportunity to show her everything he had accomplished. He would show her just how much they all revered him and perhaps have the opportunity to formally invite her into his fold.

"Horton," he nodded politely while walking by her on the way to fetch a drink.

He swore he could hear a collective sigh as the tension over the room dissipated and the party began with this apparent mark of approval.

* * *

Rosemary watched Tom curiously as he strode past her, no doubt to pour a glass of his usual scotch, relieved that he hadn't caused some sort of scene. Although, that wouldn't have been his style anyway...

She watched his group join the party and was shocked to see that it was larger than she could have possibly imagined. How had he done it? How could he organize all of these people, put them to work around the castle, and _not _get caught somehow? She was equally surprised to recognize a few Ravenclaws among them, all of which avoided her eyes as they scattered throughout the Slytherin common room. Perhaps this was for the best; if they wanted her to keep her mouth shut about their involvement, they certainly wouldn't inform Warren that they had spotted her at the Slytherin party.

"Horton, you made it!" Markus suddenly bounded up to her and pulled a vial of all-too-familiar liquid from his pocket. "Party favors? I hear the lady behind the recipe is a complete doll," he winked at her.

"I'll pass," Rosemary hissed as she tensed up, wondering if Markus told Faye her other secret– that she had been brewing for Jasper– and glanced over at her to see if she had heard Markus. Thankfully, Adam had pulled her into his lap for a quick snog that appeared to be sufficiently distracting.

The four friends sat together, gossiping about the various partygoers and taking the occasional group liquor shot. For a while, things felt like old times. It was at least enough to keep her occupied and subdue the urge to glance over toward Tom every thirty seconds. But five or so drinks later, Markus unabashedly announced that it was time to find a girl to snog and wandered away.

Rosemary cursed him mentally, as being the third wheel around Faye and Adam was rarely enjoyable. It was, however, better than sitting alone. But as luck would have it, Faye's favorite song suddenly filled the room and she jumped up excitedly, told Rose they would be back in a few, and dragged Adam into the middle of the room where an impromptu dance floor had been established.

* * *

Tom was in the middle of a disappointingly bland conversation with Dolohov regarding the task he had assigned a select few of the Knights– to spy on Dumbledore– when he suddenly noticed that Rosemary was sitting alone. He felt his heart rate increase slightly. This was it: his chance.

"But I was thinking we might have more luck if –"

"Stop trailing him, for at least a week," Tom cut him off midsentence. "We need to tread cautiously as the staff investigates all the new members' accomplishments. Now if you'll excuse me…"

He could feel Dolohov looking after him curiously as he strode away, but this was the furthest thought from Tom's mind. Soon he had crossed the room and was about five feet away from her when he was hit with a feeling of sudden panic – what was he even planning to _say _to her? He couldn't just flat out ask her to join the Knights, of course, because this would indicate to her that he actually _wanted_ her there…and this was something he certainly wasn't prepared to admit.

This dilemma was disorienting, given that he was one who had always been so skilled with words. On instinct, he took a detour in his path toward the drinks table to refill his scotch again. He downed the refill and poured another, an attempt at calming his inexplicable nerves, but he regretted this immediately – he had already been quite buzzed and the haziness that alcohol settled over his mind was sure not to help in this quandary.

He caught his reflection in a mirror on the wall above the table and realized how truly ridiculous he was being. There was no reason to be worked up; after all, she was just Rosemary Horton, the girl he was fucking regularly that he thought would make a nice addition to the Knights.

'_She also happens to be the girl who is publicly with someone else,' _he heard a voice within him whisper.

It occurred to him, suddenly, that even if he wanted her to join the Knights – she couldn't. Or, more appropriately, he couldn't allow it to happen. After all, what would the others think of him? Surely they would suspect that something more than mere friendship was going on between them and Tom wouldn't dare to voluntarily associate himself with something so dishonorable. Feeding his desires with her behind closed doors was one thing, but it was another entirely for everyone else to suspect them.

And so, if he truly wanted her to join the Knights, he would need to find a way to get her to end things with Cramer once and for all. He would win and possess her once more, taking back what was rightfully his, but this time it would be even better than before. After all, now that he only wanted her for sex and as a Knights member, he no longer had to worry about getting burned. He had learned from his mistakes and would no longer allow himself to complicate things with emotions. Though he desired an equal, he would have to settle for the next best thing; she would be another of his pawns – a possession. It was as simple as that.

With a new plan fresh in his mind, he set off across the room toward Carina Bulstrode.

If only he had known then what the next twenty-four hours had in store.

* * *

She had never felt so out of place in her life. Why had she even given in to Faye's pestering and accepted the invitation? The answer, of course, had everything to do with Tom. She certainly wanted to see how much he really flirted with other girls, but there was also a bit of curiosity in her regarding the dynamic of his group. The fact that Warren had wanted to spend time together that evening probably had something to do with it as well…

Faye had yet to return and since then, Rosemary had spotted Becca on the other side of the room, standing in a circle of girls. They locked eyes for a moment and Rosemary gave her a pathetic-looking wave, desperate to have anyone to interact with, but Becca didn't return it. She just stared at Rose for a few moments, narrowing her eyes slightly, before turning back to her friends.

Rosemary felt herself flush in embarrassment at the interaction and her scarlet hue only worsened as she watched Tom stride confidently up to Carina Bulstrode. She balled her hands in to fists at her sides, her fingernails digging to her palms, watching him lean in to say something in her ear and then clink his glass against hers, as though in celebration. Celebration of what? Something Knights-related, surely?

'_Yes,'_ she told herself. _'She's in the Knights and that's the only reason he's speaking with her…in fact, he'll probably move on to speak to another member soon.'_

But he didn't. Instead, Tom led her onto the dance floor.

Rose finished off another glass of whatever it was she happened to be drinking at this point. She couldn't really taste it anymore and the room had begun to sway – or was that just her body?

She continued to stare at them when they started dancing. Apparently Avery was right; Tom was just fine with keeping their encounters string-free because he was fucking around with all the Slytherin girls, too.

But even as she watched them, she found this hard to believe. After all, he and Rose slept together just about every day (and occasionally once every couple of days)…how could he possibly find the time, or energy, for more?

So was he just trying to make her jealous, then? If so, he was doing a damned good job.

Rosemary knew another drink was most definitely an awful idea judging by her dizziness, but she didn't care; it was far more important to her at the moment to get inebriated enough that she wouldn't remember the sight of Tom's hand on the small of Carina's back the following morning.

She stood and began stumbling her way to the drinks table, snaking through the horde of people around it. Rosemary searched for an opening and finally found one, throwing herself into it to force through the crowd. Unfortunately, Olive Hornby was attempting to exit the crowd in the same place and she and Rose collided, causing the tall blonde to spill half her drink.

"Watch it, Horton!" Olive gave her a withering stare.

"No, _you_ watch it, Hornby." Rosemary glared right back at her before preparing herself for another attempt through the crowd.

However, she felt an arm on her forearm, pulling her away from the oasis of alcohol she so desperately needed. "_Excuse _me?" Olive spun her around so they were face to face. "How _dare _you speak to me that way! Apologize immediately."

Rosemary rolled her eyes. "I am not apologizing to you, Hornby."

Olive gave her a brief look of fury, which quickly twisted into an arrogant grin. "You know what? You are far too full of yourself, Horton…You think you're so much better than everyone else just because you get decent marks and were made Head Girl. You think everyone just _adores _you, don't you, because daddy's company donates a few cheap brooms every year? Well, let me tell you a little secret, sweetheart. No one wants you here. Not Tom, not Adam, not Markus, not Faye…no one."

These words, combined with her intoxication and the plain view of Carina and Tom over Olive's shoulder, was enough to bring Rosemary close to tears. She scrambled for a snappy retort, but nothing came to mind. How could she refute what Olive said, when her friends had essentially abandoned her?

"Anyway, I've actually been meaning to thank you," Olive continued in her snotty voice. "Now that Riddle's a single man, these parties have become _far _more interesting, if you know what I mean."

Rosemary's heart quickened. His dancing with Carina was one thing, but she wasn't sure she could handle knowing that Tom had _anything_ to do with Olive.

She turned toward the dancefloor and sighed. "He's so fit, isn't he? In fact, just between you and me, I think tonight will be the night we finally sleep together."

Rosemary gritted her teeth. "I hate to break it to you, but Tom can't stand you."

Olive laughed, a sound so high-pitched that it surely had the potential to break the glass in her hand. "Things have changed, dear. Can't you see that?"

"Sure, some things. But you can't change the fact that you're a slut, Hornby…and that's not exactly his type."

"Oh, what's wrong, sweetheart? Are you jealous?" Olive put her hand on Rosemary's arm.

"Don't be ridiculous," Rose spat as she ripped her arm away.

Olive snorted a laugh. "Right. Well, we'll see just how jealous you are."

Rosemary couldn't tell if she was bluffing or not, but suddenly Olive was sauntering over to Tom. Well, at least there would be _one_ highlight of her night. If she knew anything at all, it was that Tom loathed Olive Hornby.

She watched unabashedly as Olive approached he and Carina, tapping her on the shoulder and shooing her away with a hand. Carina hesitated, but when Tom suddenly donned his handsome smirk and began speaking with Olive instead, she retreated from the dancefloor.

'_What in the fucking hell…?'_

They stood close together, not even a foot apart, and she just about lost it when she saw Olive reach up and run her fingers down his tie. But Tom didn't jerk away like Rose expected him too; instead, he tossed a discreet look in Rose's direction. They locked eyes and instantly, she knew: all of this– with Carina, and then Olive –was to make her jealous.

Then he stepped even closer to Olive, as though they might kiss, and they continued speaking. Despite the fact that she knew all of this was a mere game to him, Rosemary felt an awful feeling rush over her, a combination of intense nausea, rage, and pure jealousy. Some of the darkest thoughts she had ever experienced flashed through her mind and as she watched Olive tilt her glass against her lips and prepare to down the remainder of its contents, she couldn't help but wish she was drinking something disgusting instead, like the pus from a hundred teenage Mandrakes' pimples.

"What the fuck?" Olive shrieked as she dropped her glass to the ground in shock, sending scattered glass in a five foot radius around her and Tom.

Rosemary's jaw dropped slightly when she noticed the traces of a whitish, viscous liquid amongst the shards.

Had _she _done that? She could barely believe it at first, but yes – she certainly had. Rosemary was rather impressed at this feat of wandless magic, but it was short-lived as she noticed Olive suddenly charging at her.

"You jealous bitch!" she shrieked again. "How _dare _you."

The room grew silent and soon, all eyes were on Rose, who was attempting to look as innocent as possible. "I don't have a clue what you're-"

But Rosemary didn't have the opportunity to get the last bit of this sentence out – Olive had drawn her wand and fired a Knockback jinx at her. Out of instinct, Rosemary had apparently drawn hers as well and managed to block the jinx just in time.

She should have ended it there and kept on the defensive. But there was a part of her that desperately wanted to teach the slag a lesson too – for flirting with Tom and for giving Rose shit. But before she had any time at all to come to her senses, this part of her mind had already taken over completely.

"_Impedimenta!_"

Olive was hit and thrown into the nearby couches. As she scrambled back to her feet and fixed her hair, she looked at Rose in pure shock for her retaliation. The crowd parted to make space for their impromptu duel and Rosemary was too drunk with both liquor and revenge to care that nearly everyone in Slytherin house was watching them. A few of the boys had even begun cheering them on.

"_Oppugno,_" Olive snarled, directing the shards of glass to momentarily come to life and fly in Rosemary's direction.

If she was capable of conscious thought in that moment, she would have realized that she had made a terrible mistake. Olive had escalated things very quickly and Rosemary knew she was _not_ skilled enough at dueling to keep up. However, none of this so much as crossed her mind. Her movements felt automatic, as though someone had decided to highjack her mind. She didn't know how, but she had stopped the shards in mid-air and sent the majority of them back toward Olive.

The blonde ducked behind the couch and fired another jinx, which Rosemary effortlessly dissipated. Out of the corner of Rose's eye, she saw Faye rushing toward her with a concerned expression. "Come on, Rose…let's go…" her friend reached her side and began tugging on her wand arm.

But she wasn't finished – she hadn't _won_.

Rosemary tore her arm from Faye's grasp long enough to throw a Stinging Jinx in Olive's direction. She smirked in satisfaction when it made contact with the slag's hand just as she was raising her wand to cast a counter-spell. Rosemary's face broke into a full grin as she heard Olive's shriek and the subsequent clatter of her wand against the stone floor.

A few of the Slytherin boys cheered and whistled after her as Faye hustled her out of the common room; clearly they were too drunk to consider the fact that this would certainly piss off Tom.

_Tom._

She searched for him in the crowd and they met eyes just before Faye pulled her into the dungeon corridor. His look stuck in her mind – one that had been nothing short of amusement, though his slightly raised eyebrow indicated that he was also impressed. And then she understood all over again: it was a game. It was all a game. He had been flirting with other girls all night, knowing it would get a rise out of her. All he had to do was sit back and let the entertainment unfold.

"What in the hell was that about?" Faye demanded in a whisper-yell as they entered the corridor.

Rosemary leaned against the wall for support; her consciousness was coming back in full force from its temporary absence during her duel, and with that came her drunkenness. The cool air of the corridor helped, though. She hadn't realized just how stuffy it had been inside the common room.

She didn't answer Faye and began making her way toward the stairs instead, remembering just how angry she was at her best friend.

"So you're not going to say _anything_ about what just happened?" Faye prompted her again.

Rose kept silent as they started up the stairs that led from the dungeon.

"Look, Rose, I know you've had a bit to drink, but you have to be careful…Something like this could easily get around to the rest of Hogwarts and you have no idea what stories they'll come up with. If Warren heard –"

"Like you give a shit!" Rosemary finally snapped. "This entire thing is _your _fault."

Faye rolled her eyes. "What, for inviting you?"

"For _abandoning_ me. If you and Adam hadn't left to go dance, I would have never seen Tom with Carina –"

"Listen to what you're saying…" Faye shook her head. "This is ridiculous. You're torturing yourself by not getting back with him."

"Stop assuming that this is all _my_ decision," Rose said bitingly. "I assure you that Tom is quite satisfied with exactly the way things are now."

'_Games and all…'_

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry," Faye said gently and put her arm around the redhead's shoulders. "Come on, let's stop by the Kitchens and split a slice of cake before heading to bed."

Rosemary's eyes widened at this true display of friendship. "Even though your wedding dress fitting is next Saturday?"

"Only for my Rosie-Posey."

Rosemary fake-gagged, but felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It quickly dissipated, however, as Tom's expression of arrogant amusement crossed her mind once again. As she realized just how many times she had played along with his little games, bending to his every desire under the illusion that she wanted exactly the same, she felt her insides begin to boil.

After that night, she would be his toy no longer.

* * *

Avery shook his head back and forth with a smirk and clapped Tom on the shoulder. "Women, eh?"

'_I swear I'm going to murder that bastard,' _Tom thought, though his moment of annoyance was surprisingly fleeting.

Instead, he was absorbed in shock and awe while watching Rosemary go. He also felt remarkably odd, as though something within him had just clicked into place, though he wasn't sure what exactly it was. A bizarre sense of clarity had washed over him, replacing every impulse in his body with a single mission:

_Go find Rosemary. _

After a few hasty goodbyes, he slipped out of the common room and found himself outside of her dormitory around five minutes later. He raised his hand to knock, but paused.

'_No! What about the plan? Make her come to you…make her _earn_ your attention like everyone else.'_

'_Fuck the plan,' _he found himself thinking.

He knocked.

Tom tried to wait patiently, but his inexplicable urgency to see her was overpowering. He knocked again and pressed his ear to her door, disappointed when he didn't hear her shuffling about. She _had_ seemed quite intoxicated, however – perhaps she had fallen asleep just before he arrived.

There was always the option of breaking into her dormitory, but Tom restrained himself from doing so. As much as he felt drawn to the thought of her in that moment, he knew he needed to retreat for a moment and attempt to get a handle on whatever the hell was going on with him.

Tom entered his dormitory and took a seat on the chair in the corner of the room. He poured over the fresh memories of that evening, replaying the duel between Rosemary and Hornby multiple times in his head. Nearly all of the spells Rosemary used were the ones that he had trained her with in the Room of Requirement all those months ago and her form had been remarkably impressive. Not Tournament-level impressive, of course, but still…He had become transfixed as he watched her, a state of mind that he had yet to break himself out of.

A sudden knock at his door startled him and it was everything he could do not to dash across the room towards it, in hopes that it was her.

Merlin…what was _wrong_ with him?

His breath caught in his throat when he cracked the door to see that it was, indeed, Rosemary. However, she did not appear to be nearly as happy to see him as he was to see her.

"I certainly hope you're satisfied," she promptly snapped before storming into his room.

Tom was still at a loss as to what was going on in his head, but he tried to push it away the best he could and summon his usual self. "I'm certainly flattered that you were fighting for me." His smirk was met with an increasingly intense glare.

"I did _not _duel Olive because of you; I dueled her because she's a bitch. And while we're on the topic, I just want to inform you that all your pathetic attempts to make me jealous have done absolutely nothing."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Miss Horton, but I had no intentions of evoking your jealousy."

Not true, of course, though it also wasn't true that his plan had done 'absolutely nothing'. if the duel was any indication. But it did feel rather foolish now anyway. Between Bulstrode and Hornby and Rosemary there was no comparison; she stood in a class all her own. Without even trying, she had found a way to turn the tables on him and, surprisingly, he didn't mind at the moment.

"In fact, you can try and make me jealous all you want." He suddenly realized she had continued ranting at him. "But I know the real truth and it's _so _obvious: you can't get enough of me, Tom. _You_ can't resist _me_. Not the other way around."

He rolled his eyes and forced a short laugh. "Don't be daft."

"Really? You think I'm wrong?"

"Of course I do."

She paused and stared at him for a moment. Then, like a light that had been suddenly switched off, her demeanor shifted completely; the angry sprawl of red across her face suddenly faded and it was replaced with a smirk that rivaled even his own. When she spoke, she used a sultry, teasing voice he had never heard from her, but thought he would quite like to hear it again.

"Prove it, then," she said. "Because I'm not sure you can _actually _control yourself. Prove me wrong, Tom. I dare you." As she spoke, her fingers reached up and got to work on the top buttons of her blouse.

There was a part of him that knew this was a bad idea, that he would surely sacrifice some of the control over her that he had earned if he didn't successfully win this little game she had proposed. But his curiosity and the odd feeling that wouldn't leave his head got the best of him in the end.

"Do your worst, Miss Horton."

* * *

"_You're rarer than can of dandelion and burdock, and those other girls are just post-mix lemonade." – Alex Turner_

* * *

**Hey friends! Sorry for the late update - this chapter took _forever_ to write (and hopefully the length will make up for the delay at least a bit).(:**

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	72. Part II - Opia

Opia

_March 17, 1945_

Tom lay awake while Rosemary slept in the crook of his shoulder. He had been watching her for what felt like an hour (if not more); she looked radiant in the illumination of the moonlight flooding through his window. For what was surely the hundredth time, his mind drifted through the events of the evening prior.

First there was the Knights meeting, which he considered to be largely successful after discovering the potential of Brocklehurst and putting Davies in his place. But that was nothing compared to what he had seen at the party: Rosemary's impressive duel. And even that paled in comparison to their drunken game later that night, which he _certainly_ enjoyed more than he had anticipated.

He hadn't really even taken her seriously at first, as he was well-aware that she was quite drunk. He thought she would fold after about five minutes or so of their game, but Merlin had he been mistaken.

"Do your worst, Miss Horton," he had told her.

A tiny smirk appeared on her face and she abruptly pushed him into the nearby armchair in the corner of his room. "There's just one rule," she said, her voice still sultry and teasing. "No touching unless I tell you to. Think you can handle it?"

He rolled his eyes, but donned a smirk of his own. "Don't flatter yourself."

By this time, she had finished unbuttoning her blouse and dropped it to the floor. She leaned forward to kiss the side of his neck in the spots she knew drove him crazy, allowing him a plentiful view of her cleavage. She would have to do better than this if she had any chance of winning, he thought.

Her lips continued up and down his neck and across his jaw as she slipped out of her skirt, revealing a pair of lacy knickers that happened to be his favorite to see on her. He could already feel himself hardening at the sight of her half-naked body and swiftly attempted to take his mind elsewhere so that he could assure his win against her.

But this was for naught, because she suddenly reached out and grasped his hand while half climbing on top of him, brushing his finger just slightly against the bottom of her knickers.

Her body heat radiated off her, so much so that he could feel it through his clothes. "Oh Tom," she whispered seductively in his ear.

This, along with the realization that a wet spot had already begun to form on her knickers, was enough to send a shiver down his spine and make him just a little harder. Still, he could resist her; there was no way that she could beat him. He scoffed internally at her misguided belief that he couldn't control himself with her.

Suddenly, as if she had heard his thoughts, she stood, walked to his nearby bed, and sprawled herself onto it. He wasn't sure what exactly she was doing, until he watched one of her dainty hands trail down her smooth stomach and beneath her knickers.

He bit the inside of his cheek to avoid giving any noticeable reaction to her very naughty behavior. This became significantly more difficult when she locked eyes with him and slid off her knickers, then continuing to touch herself.

"You're making a fool of yourself," he just barely managed to say, for the first time wondering if she just might win at this little game after all.

The smile she sported in the wake of this comment was nothing short of devious. "I'd wager that at least _one _part of you would disagree," she said, looking down pointedly at his trousers.

He sighed internally, disappointed at the betrayal of his own anatomy.

Thankfully, he was afforded a momentary reprieve when she suddenly decided to change strategies once again and hopped off his bed, sauntering toward him. He knew his relief would be short-lived, however, as he watched her hand travel in the direction of his zipper. He caught her wrist just in time and she looked at him in amusement.

"What's wrong, you don't think you can handle a bit of touching?"

He couldn't exactly say 'yes', so he was forced to release her hand and allow her to do as she pleased. Rosemary reached into his trousers and fondled him lightly and balled his hands into fists to once again avoid giving her the satisfaction of reaction.

"I'm impressed," she said teasingly. "But I bet you'd fold if these clothes weren't in the way."

"Try me," he forced himself to say as he stood and stripped his clothes to the floor. In the meantime, Rosemary unhinged her brassiere and tossed it aside, baring the entirety of her gorgeous body to his hungry eyes.

Her lips met his and he was careful not to kiss her back, though it took an enormous amount of willpower – and even more so when her fingers wrapped around the base of his bare cock and began stroking him up and down. His inner urges screamed at him to touch her everywhere, but he continued to fight them with every ounce of energy he had.

After what felt like an hour of this torture, but was likely only a few minutes in reality, she climbed up onto the chair and straddled him, her delicious opening hovering directly above his throbbing member. If only he could reach out, grasp her hips, and bring her down over his cock…that was all he wanted.

"Do you want me?" she asked him teasingly.

It was all he could do not to abandon their game altogether, throw her on the nearby bed, and wreak havoc on her sensuous body. But his pride wouldn't allow it. He didn't trust himself to open his mouth, so instead he said nothing.

Tom sucked in his breath sharply and felt himself twitch as she lowered herself just enough so her wet opening brushed against his erection. "Do you want me?" she asked him again. His hands gripped the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Still, he managed to stay silent.

"And now?" She slid about an inch onto him effortlessly due to her outrageous wetness.

Tom gasped involuntarily and looked into her eyes, those gorgeous deep blue pools. Before he could stop himself, he said "Yes."

She grinned, clearly quite pleased with herself, though her tone remained just as darkly sensual as it had been at the beginning of her game. "Tell me, then. Tell me you want me and that you were wrong – that you can't resist me. Beg for me."

He locked his jaw. "You know I'm not going to do that."

"Don't be a poor sport," she cooed. "You know it's true…"

He shook his head stubbornly, but let out a small, uncontrollable groan when she pulled herself off of him. She gave him a pointed look and he sighed in defeat. "Yes, Horton, I want to fuck you."

"Say my name."

He expected himself to balk at her continued string of commands, but found himself oddly transfixed. He could have resisted her any other night, he told himself; any other night but that one, given what he had witnessed in the Slytherin common room and the extremely odd feelings it had given him. "Rosemary." His voice was just above a hoarse whisper. Those three syllables felt foreign on his lips; after all, he had not said her name aloud since things had ended between them. But what came out of his mouth next, once again without his consent, sounded even more foreign: "Rosemary, I want you." His voice was inexplicably tender and an awful feeling settled within him at this realization.

What had she done to him?

They stared into each other's eyes for a few long seconds, her face unreadable, until she pulled her body against his and slid once more onto his cock – this time all the way. The fucking itself was a complete blur given his level of arousal. He knew that they had eventually found their way to the bed and that she had remained on top of him. The image of her lowering herself over his cock again and again had been completely burned into his mind. The sensuality she displayed was bold – so much so that he had to keep reminding himself that this was Rosemary and not another girl. For at least that night, she was no longer his submissive plaything; she was a gorgeous dominatrix. And he loved every second of it.

There was a part of him that wanted to wake her for another romp now that he was all hot and bothered again, but he resisted. She looked far too peaceful in her slumber. In fact, he found that he was rather content with simply watching her, but not only because she was beautiful; there was something that calmed him about seeing her bare chest rise and fall in deep breaths.

She didn't stir until the hazy light of dawn filtered through his window. He began stroking her hair, somewhat hoping that she would wake up so he could look into her blue eyes. But something inside him made him stop, telling him that she would likely leave soon after waking. He was puzzled by his thoughts on the subject. Why did he suddenly care whether she stayed or went?

Regardless, it seemed as though the fate of that morning had already been sealed; she rolled onto her side toward him before looking up at him with sleepy, squinted eyes. She rubbed them and began to sit up, a disturbing feeling of disappointment spreading over Tom as he realized that she was likely to be gone not even a minute later.

Or not, perhaps; as soon as she reached a sitting position, she groaned in pain from what he assumed was an enormous hangover and quickly returned to the way she had just been lying beside him.

"Long night?" he asked her with a smirk.

"Something along those lines," she muttered before looking up at him with a surprisingly mischievous look. "Though I could be asking you the same; it's not often that Tom Riddle loses, after all…How is your pride faring?"

For what seemed like the hundredth time in the past day, his words poured out of his mouth before his mind had a chance to stop them. "Well, if I had to lose at _something_, I suppose there could be worse things…" She looked up at him in disbelief, probably just as appalled as he was by his response, and he scrambled to recover, but panicked when he realized nothing came to mind.

'_Fucking hell, what is _wrong_ with me?_' Tom asked himself in pure disgust.

Rosemary seemed to recover from the shock of his comment long before he surely would. "I may have to stay for a while, if you don't mind. I think I may be ill if I stand up."

"Okay," Tom said weakly. It was a response that was pitiful in comparison of his typical capacity for banter with her, but he was far too relieved that he hadn't answered with something along the lines of "Of course I don't mind" to care.

"Thanks," she smiled up at him, a sight that gave him an oddly familiar feeling in his stomach that he couldn't quite place. Then she closed her eyes and groaned again, burying her face against his chest. "Distract me," she begged him suddenly. "Make me think about something _other_ than this headache."

Tom knew he didn't owe her anything and certainly didn't need to oblige her, but that didn't mean he didn't _want _to – especially if his reluctance to help convinced her to leave (though this also served as yet another, equally puzzling example of his recent inexplicable desires). His first instinct was to suggest another bout of sex, but doubted that she was in the state to partake in such an activity. Perhaps Occlumency? They had discussed meeting up that weekend sometime for another lesson anyway…

He suggested it to her and she gave him a skeptical look. "Last time, you _gave_ me a headache while I was practicing."

Tom rolled his eyes in slight annoyance. "Only because I was trying to test your bounds. But concentrating on clearing your mind should help somewhat. "

She hesitated, but eventually said "I suppose it's worth a try."

He turned his body toward her, their faces just inches apart. "When you're ready, then."

"Ready."

Tom entered her mind and was reminded at how impressively far she had come after only their first lesson. However, just as he was about to test her a bit, the barrier to her thoughts she had constructed abruptly faltered and he suddenly found himself in the Horton mansion, watching a much younger Rosemary and Markus Avery playing a game of Witches and Wagers on the floor of Basil's study. They also appeared to be in the middle of an argument.

"It'll be fine, Rosie. Don't be such a baby."

"I'm not a baby," she snapped. Tom grinned – even as a young girl she was feisty.

"Yes you are," Avery taunted her in an annoying, sing-song voice.

"You heard my father – we're not allowed," she crossed her arms over her chest. "It's the new model and they haven't finished testing it yet."

"I heard him telling my father about it – they've done _most_ of the testing, just not all of it. The last few aren't even important , we'll only be gone for five minutes. They won't even notice. Come on...I'll tell everyone I meet at Hogwarts you're a baby if you don't."

Rosemary looked hesitantly toward the corridor outside the study. "Fine," she sighed.

Avery gave her a pompous, satisfied look, dashed across the room, and mounted the broom. "Well, come on," he told her when she wavered.

She gingerly mounted the broom behind Avery and grasped onto his waist as they suddenly zoomed out the open window. Tom strode to the window and watched them from there.

Rosemary looked terrified, and for what Tom thought was good reason. It appeared that Avery was trying to frighten her as much as possible – they climbed higher and higher, zigzagging through branches of nearby trees. After a few minutes of this, Avery looked satisfied and began to lower the broom to the ground when it suddenly stopped about twenty-five feet above the perfectly manicured green lawn.

He smacked the handle in frustration and the broom responded by attempting to buck them off, sending Rosemary into a nearby tree. She screamed as her small body was battered against a succession of branches as she fell toward the ground and she appeared to be unconscious when she finally reached the grass.

Well, _that_ certainly explained her aversion to broomsticks.

She shuddered as he exited her mind. "It was as painful as it looked, believe me."

"Avery's a wanker," Tom said shortly.

Rosemary laughed, a sound that made him feel oddly pleased with himself. "Yes, he certainly is at times. I was at St. Mungo's the entire week before starting Hogwarts. But the Healers did an amazing job and I admired them so much; I knew as early as then that Healing was precisely what I wanted to do."

"Did you ever tell you parents that?" he found himself asking her.

She laughed, hollowly this time, a sound that failed to fill him up like her previous laugh. "Of course." Then she said something he certainly did not expect: "Let me show you."

He nodded and eagerly entered her mind once more, but quickly realized the pathetic nature of his excitement. What was he, some addict looking for his next fix?

Once again, he found himself in her home, though this memory was a few years more recent judging by Rosemary's slightly more adult-like appearance. Basil's voice came from behind an open copy of _The Daily Prophet_. "What courses are you planning to take this term, dear?"

"Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy," she listed off quietly.

Her mother regarded her in surprise. "Merlin, Rosemary, do you really think it's a good idea to stretch yourself so thin? When are you going to find time to spend with Markus?"

Tom watched her roll her eyes at her toast, a gesture that went unnoticed by her parents – which was probably for the best. "I need to take them."

"For what, exactly?" he mother asked incredulously.

Rosemary looked up at her, an air of challenge in her voice. "To become a Healer. Well, technically Ancient Runes and Arithmancy aren't required, but I believe it will give me a stronger application to St. Mungo's for training."

Her mother rubbed her temples. "We've been through this, Rosemary. You are not going to become a Healer."

"It's _my_ life," said Rosemary with a glare. "I fail to understand why I can't spend it the way I please."

"Perhaps you're too young to understand," sighed her mother, a statement that made Rosemary's face flush slightly red in a way that Tom knew meant irritation. "Don't you have any idea how despicable it is for a pureblood lady such as yourself to take employment? You will tell the entire world that there was no suitor that found you eligible – I will not permit my daughter to sully her family's name in this regard."

"Evelyn," Basil gave his wife a slightly disapproving look, but a harsh glare from her in his direction quickly quieted him. It was an odd exchange to witness, given that Tom had been under the impression that _Basil_, not Evelyn, was the one causing problems for Rosemary in the Horton household.

"Do _you_ think I should be able to do what I want with my life, Father?" Rosemary asked Basil sweetly, now having identified the weakest link.

Basil was quiet for a moment, clearly weighing the consequences of whichever alliance he chose. Evelyn continued to glare at him with a look that indicated he was unlikely to be welcome in the bed they shared for at _least_ the following week or so. He choice was unsurprising: "Your mother is right, dear, though she might have used kinder words," Basil gave his wife a pointed look and Evelyn's face softened in response. "You wouldn't like being a Healer anyway. They have hard lives, Rosemary. The pay is decent, but they work long days with few holidays…you wouldn't even have time to raise children."

Rosemary noticeably shuddered at the word 'children', though her parents didn't see. It struck Tom in that moment that this was a topic they had never discussed when they were together, which was a bit of a relief as he had never given it a thought before. But now that he_ was _thinking about it, the idea sounded truly awful. His only real interaction with anyone significantly younger than him was had been with the first years, which irritated him constantly with their pestering questions upon their arrival at Hogwarts.

But they were someone _else's _children; what would having his own be like? Probably just as irritating, he thought. On the other hand, though, he would have the opportunity to mold the blank slate of their thoughts and teach them anything he wanted to, which could be extremely valuable. Of course, this was all completely irrelevant anyway as having children would require him to settle down, a possibility he had completely ruled out. But if he _did_, he would obviously want someone who matched his intelligence, charm, and good looks. Someone like Rosemary Horton, perhaps…

'_What is fucking _wrong_ with me?'_ he wondered again.

He quickly pushed all of these disturbing thoughts from his mind, turning his attention back to Rosemary's memory.

"It's an honorable profession," her father continued, "but I don't believe you understand what you would be getting yourself into. Everyone has a place, dear, and compared to the majority of the wizarding world you're quite lucky. You have the opportunity to lead a life of ease rather than overworking yourself like everybody else."

"But I don't want to just sit around, I want to _do_ something."

"Is that what you think I do: _'just sit around'_?" her mother demanded, her temper showing on her face much as it did on her daughter's. "You ungrateful little –"She cut herself off suddenly, took a moment to collect herself, and then continued in a voice that sent a chill down Tom's spine. "I swear on my mother's grave that you will learn your place, Rosemary Alana Horton. And you will not sign up for at least two of those classes."

"Fine," said Rosemary distantly, which was probably the best course of action in Tom's opinion after hearing her mother's surprisingly chilling voice.

The memory began to fade away and Tom exited her mind once more.

"See?" Rosemary sighed at him. "I ended up enrolling in all of the classes anyway, as you know, but I had to be very careful about hiding it…especially when our O.W.L. results were sent out."

Tom nodded as if he understood, but he didn't. It wasn't as though he had parents to speak of. And though he loathed the muggle-infested orphanage in which he was raised, at least he didn't have anyone to tell him what he should and shouldn't be doing.

But then he looked into her eyes once more, marveling at the apparent ease with which she had just bared her mind for him. She trusted him quite profoundly, so it seemed.

And suddenly, everything clicked. He _did_ understand her. In fact, he knew in that moment that he understood the depths of her that no one– not her parents, her closest friends, nor Cramer– could even dream to comprehend. And clearly she understood him too, at least to some capacity; otherwise she would have been one of the many others to merely fall under his complete control. Quite the contrary, actually, she was the only one even remotely capable of putting him in his place.

But any power she had over him was perfectly balanced against his. They were, above all else, equals. She may have proven the evening prior that he was unable to resist her, but he knew that the opposite was true as well. They were drawn to each other effortlessly, as though by an infallible rule of nature.

He knew now that his inexplicable feelings over the past day were far more than a mere desire for her to join the Knights or to continue bedding her on a regular basis. Although his stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought and he had scoured his brain the last eight or so hours for any possible alternative, he knew there was only one logical conclusion:

He, Tom Riddle, was still in love with her.

'_Fucking hell, not this again.'_

None of this would have happened, he thought, if he had just kept his distance from her. _Why_ hadn't he kept his distance? But this made him wonder: even if he had wanted to, would he actually have been able to stay away from her? Was it humanly possible for him? Tom desperately wanted to believe so, but it seemed obvious in that moment that the magnitude of his connection to Rosemary was far beyond the scope of his personal control.

He suddenly felt foolish for even attempting to move on as it appeared that he was simply doomed to endure the torture of wanting her. But did he want her just because he couldn't have her? Or did he actually want to _be_ with her?

He did. Of _course_ he did, though he certainly didn't want to admit it. But wouldn't that hold him back in fear of losing her again?

'_No_,' he told himself; things had changed, if what he had witnessed of her in the past few weeks was any indication. Furthermore, it wasn't as though she had shown any disapproval over what he had been putting the Knights up to recently. It made him wonder: if she was faced with the same choice today as she had been in October when Tom finally taught Cramer a lesson, would she still betray Tom all the same? Or would she stand by his side? It was an intriguing and slightly disturbing question. But Tom was fairly certain he knew the answer.

It was then that he knew: one way or another, Rosemary would be his again. She _had_ to be. He understood now, that anything else would just be wrong – against nature, even. They belonged together.

* * *

"_Was it the infinite sadness of her eyes that drew him or the mirror of himself that he found in the gorgeous clarity of her mind?" ― F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

**Ooooh snap. Comments? Predictions? I'd love to hear from you.(:**

**Thank you to Blerb, RosiePosie15, Lady Ravanna, x2leoj, Oksanallex, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, CharlotteBlackwood, Guest, and marly4077 for your reviews!**

**Oh! Before I forget, this is why I chose 'Opia' as the chapter title: **

**_Opia - n. the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable._**

**Lots of drama awaits - we're not even halfway through Part II, after all - stay tuned, my friends.(; **


	73. Part II - One Week

One Week

_March 23, 1945_

She could feel his eyes on her all through Transfigurations.

There had been something noticeably off with him lately. He seemed to be regarding her distantly – cautiously, even. Not to mention the fact that they hadn't slept together all week (as her body cruelly continued to remind her). In fact, she would go so far as to say that he had been avoiding her.

Perhaps something had shifted between them. Perhaps he finally learned that she would not be pushed around like his band of followers. And if so, good, because she didn't want him to see her the same way he did all the others.

But now, she couldn't help but wonder if she made a mistake by acting so boldly with him. What if she had wounded his pride just a bit too much?

Was she completely mad? After all, it appeared that Tom had an unlimited supply of pride; she doubted that she could genuinely put a dent in it. Plus, he had acted relatively normal in the aftermath, during her private Occlumency lesson.

Ugh. The Occlumency lesson. What had she been thinking, opening her mind to him so effortlessly? There was a part of her that wondered if, by doing so, she had inadvertently encouraged him to browse her mind on a whim.

Perhaps _that _was why he was acting so distantly; what if he had perused her thoughts without her knowledge and stumbled onto something that she most certainly didn't want him to know…like the fact that she still had feelings for him? Had she scared him off without even realizing it?

However, the most terrifying scenario of all (and probably the most likely, knowing Tom), was that he was plotting some sort of retaliation against her. Surely it was only a matter of time until he made his move and attempted to put her back in her place, not that she would let him of course.

She sighed internally, as this barrage of thoughts had been tormenting her all week.

At least she was still at Hogwarts. Thankfully, nobody breathed a word regarding her duel with Olive, which most certainly would have gotten her removed from her Head Girl position and potentially expelled.

With Tom's reign over the majority of the house, it appeared that Slytherin had adopted a new policy: what happened in the Slytherin common room, stayed there. And she had to admit, she had been impressed by the way his new friends seemed to revere him. From what Rosemary had seen, the Slytherin parties had essentially become just another venue for these eager followers to impress him.

Of course, it also helped that Olive was probably humiliated by her win.

Rosemary knew she should regret the duel and perhaps her win over Tom, but she didn't; Olive had it coming and so did Tom. She had certainly surprised herself with her boldness as well. But the truth of the matter was that she felt better than she had in weeks – months, even. She was finally feeling like herself again.

She glanced down at her notes in an attempt to bring her attention back to the subject of Transfigurations only to notice a message that had appeared in the middle of her parchment. Rosemary recognized Tom's tidy handwriting immediately:

_Please clear your schedule for eleven p.m. this evening._

As much as she was yearning to see him after spending the entire week apart (and rather relieved that whatever they had would apparently continue), his presumptuous demand left her feeling a bit prickly as well as rather nervous about whatever it was he was up to. When the ink faded, she wordlessly cast the spell on her quill that would allow her to respond in the same manner.

_My apologies, as I already have plans._

He replied hastily: _What part of 'clear your schedule' was puzzling to you?_

Rosemary gritted her teeth in rare annoyance at him. Had her victory over him the weekend prior meant nothing at all? Had he forgotten it already?

_Before you respond, need I remind you that you owe me a favor?_

She glared down at the ink while it slowly vanished from the top of her parchment. Yes, apparently it all _had_ been for nothing. He seemed his normal, arrogant self more than ever, expecting her to bow to his every wish and command.

Then again, he was right. She _did_ owe him a favor. And there was a part of her that was at least slightly curious about what it might be.

_Fine,_ she penned in return.

For the remainder of class, her mind wandered about to what this favor could possibly be. After all, it had become abundantly clear as of late that he had plenty of manpower to pull off whatever scheme he could dream up in that twisted mind of his. What else did he possibly need her for?

Even though she was rather dreading finding out, she was also admittedly quite eager for the release she was almost certain would come before they actually got down to business regarding his request. Surely he had lusted for her all week just as she had for him, after all.

* * *

He didn't like it, but the compulsion to be with her appeared to be growing stronger within him on a daily basis. This was simply reality, albeit an exceptionally terrifying one, that he was forced to acknowledge and it was everything he could do to keep his distance in an attempt from allowing this impulse to surge out of control before he determined the best way to proceed.

And it was fortunate that he finally had, because spending the entire week away from her rivaled torture; particularly during Potions on Tuesday, when he stood shoulder to shoulder with her over a bubbling cauldron attempting to distract himself from her seemingly infinite magnetizing qualities that plagued him to no end.

It became clear very quickly that Tom had to find a way to make her understand, as he now did, that they belonged together. And to him, the easiest way to go about this was to prove that the two of them could create an unstoppable team. But he couldn't simply bring her along to a Knights meeting or any other thing. It had to be something she was _invested_ in – that she actually cared about.

Fortunately, the look of pure concern that she had donned after telling him everything she knew about MAGI several weeks prior gave him all the information he needed; she desperately wanted Raoul's plot for revenge on MAGI to succeed. It had taken a bit of thought, but the plan he finally formulated seemed flawless. Even better, he would have the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone and Tom was always one for efficiency whenever possible.

He entered her dormitory without knocking, which had essentially become the norm. She didn't bother locking it any more, nor did she glance up at him to deliver a scathing glare like she used to.

She was lounging on the chair next to her fireplace in nothing but her knickers and brassiere, with a silk robe wrapped lazily over her shoulders. It was an alluring sight, and even more so when he realized she was reading one of the many books on Occlumency that he had loaned her.

'_Stick to the plan,'_ he scolded himself, as his mind began to wander off to various fantasies involving Rosemary – particularly those delicious bits that were concealed by the thin pieces of fabric.

"A bit presumptuous tonight, aren't you?" he smirked, folding his arms across his chest.

Rosemary glanced up at him and said in a sweet voice that he didn't believe for a moment, "I just thought I'd save you the trouble."

"How very thoughtful of you." His smirk deepened. "You're mistaken, however – get dressed, Horton, we're going out."

"Going out? Where?"

Tom adored the face she made whenever he caught her off guard. "You'll see." He watched her unabashedly as she dressed. A few minutes later she was ready and following him out of her dormitory, until he paused in the doorframe. "For future reference, I quite enjoy doing the work myself."

Despite their frequent amorous encounters, hearing such a direct sentiment come from his own lips was a shock to his system. But it was well-worth it when he watched her blush from the corner of his eye.

* * *

"I'll have my usual, Miss Melwyn, and a gin martini for Miss Horton – if you would be so kind."

"Of course, Tom," winked the bartender, who kept eyeing Rosemary with subtle, (though not quite subtle enough) envious glances.

'_Since when is Tom a regular at The Leaky Cauldron?'_ she found herself wondering.

"So you're actually buying me a drink first? I'm impressed," Rosemary quipped as Melwyn strode away from their corner booth. One of her many unfortunate habits (her addiction to Tom Riddle included), was her tendency to resort to banter when she was nervous.

Tom smirked, which didn't make her any less nervous. "Not exactly. As you know, I have a favor to redeem."

"Why did we come all the way to Diagon Alley to discuss it?"

Tom continued smirking at her as though he hadn't heard a word she had just spoken and she tossed him an expectant, half-annoyed look. "Well? Are you going to make me guess?"

For a few moments, it appeared that he was carefully weighing whether forcing her to guess or telling her directly would be more enjoyable for him to observe. The bartender delivered their drinks in the meantime and Rosemary took a sip of her martini. By then, it appeared that Tom had decided on his preferred method of delivery:

"I'd like you to assist me in spying on Dumbledore."

Rosemary choked on her beverage. She did _not_ like where this conversation seemed to be headed.

Tom continued, as though he hadn't noticed, "Let me rephrase that; you _will_ assist me in spying on Dumbledore."

"Why me?" Rosemary managed. "Why not one of your new friends?"

"Because it just so happens that you're far more aware of the situation than they are."

"What situation?" She had no idea what he could possibly be going on about.

Tom dropped his voice to a near-whisper, though she doubted this was necessary given the collective volume of the dozens of pub-goers. "The MAGI situation."

_Oh._

"I trust that you remember our conversation on the subject a few weeks ago?"

"Right, our _conversation_," she snorted. It had been far more like an interrogation, really.

"Well it was very valuable leverage, I must say. But that isn't what we're here to discuss; in the end, I agreed to assist Beaumont with his plans because…well, I have my reasons."

Rosemary didn't really know what she had expected Tom to say, but it certainly wasn't _that_; clearly there was something fairly substantial for him to gain from all this or he wouldn't be wasting his time.

"Anyway. There is certain evidence pointing to some sort of partnership between Grindelwald and MAGI – perhaps the company has agreed to support Grindelwald's cause from behind the scenes. If Grindelwald were to succeed in his rise to power, he could open the market for them. As of now, the only products they are unauthorized to create are –"

"Wands and broomsticks."

"Precisely. And as you know, these are very profitable markets, given that nearly every witch and wizard in the world owns one of each."

Rosemary nodded, terrified by this suggestion but also intrigued with the topic. "And what exactly does that have to do with Dumbledore?"

"Well, that's what you and I are going to find out. He's certainly involved with MAGI," Tom told her as he retrieved a folded newspaper article from his pocket and handed it across the table to her. She opened it to see a headline that was dated just a couple of months prior, on December 21st, 1944: '_Albus Dumbledore Presented Award for Spell Mechanics Consulting at MAGI'_.

"So if we're correct about MAGI and Grindelwald…Dumbledore may even play a role in that as well."

Her feeling of sheer disbelief must have been evident upon her features, because Tom pressed the matter further, growing more animated with each hushed word that he spoke: "Think about it. He's in charge of everything relating to security at Hogwarts. Not to mention the fact that he is a direct advisor to Minister Spencer-Moon. And it just so happens that he's _also_ been working for MAGI as a consultant?"

"I mean, I know you don't want to hear this, Tom, but he _is_ a talented wizard…"

"Not that talented," he hissed. "There _has_ to be something else going on."

Silence fell between them. After a few moments, she folded up _The Daily Prophet_ article and slid it across the table toward him. "I know you loathe Dumbledore, but this is a bit of a stretch. Even for you."

Tom nodded solemnly. "I figured you might say that, which is why I invited _him_."

She followed Tom's gaze toward the door that Raoul Beaumont had just stepped through. He spotted them almost immediately and flashed them a smile before heading their way.

* * *

After a few moments of idle small talk between Rosemary and Beaumont, including a brief exchange with Miss Melwyn when she came to take his order, Raoul finally brought things back on topic. "So…Tom mentioned you were willing to help. While I do appreciate the gesture, Miss Horton, I certainly don't want you to feel obligated."

"Of course I want to help," she said without hesitation. Tom rolled his eyes; she had been hesitant at best to help _him_, but more than gracious as soon as she found out it was for Raoul's quest to take down MAGI. Why was she so eager, he wondered, if there was nothing for her to gain, besides fulfilling the favor she owed him?

"But what exactly are we trying to find?" she continued. "And is it true, Raoul? Do you believe Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and MAGI are all connected?"

"It's impossible to be certain, of course, but I do believe so. As we have so little to go off of right now, you'll be looking for really anything that could be useful. Albus appears to be a very guarded man so I doubt you'll find much of anything anyway."

Tom watched quietly, chiming in on occasion, as Rosemary proceeded to ask Raoul a dozen additional questions about the potential MAGI conspiracy. Though still slightly annoyed that she hadn't jumped to help him initially (not that this was much of a surprise anyway), he was satisfied with how intrigued she was quickly becoming. The end goal of his plan seemed more attainable with each passing minute.

"I'm so glad to see the two of you back together," Raoul said discreetly to Rosemary as they stepped out of the pub and he leaned down to kiss her cheek. Tom felt the blood rush to his face and he felt Rosemary's eyes on him as he turned away and fumbled with his pack of cigarettes, pretending he hadn't heard, while cursing Raoul internally.

When he told the sponsor this lie during Tournament training earlier that evening, he had requested that Raoul didn't bring it up to her with the excuse that they were still working through things. But of course Beaumont simply couldn't restrain himself, even this once.

How would she react? Would she be angry? Or worse, would she see right through Tom to his true feelings? He had lied to Raoul about it in hopes that he would have fewer objections to Rosemary's involvement. In retrospect, however, it felt foolish; after all, Raoul had already admitted to purposefully involving her by telling her about MAGI for a reason that continued to elude Tom. Perhaps, more than anything, there was some part of him that so desperately wanted the lie to be true that he couldn't help himself.

The inevitable question came as they parted ways with Beaumont: "Why did you tell Raoul that we're back together?" She seemed genuinely confused, but not bothered, which admittedly came as a relief.

"Would you rather I tell him the truth?" he asked her nonchalantly in return.

"No," she responded quickly. Of course she didn't; after all, they were essentially trading sex for favors. It wasn't something that either of them would be proud to tell anyone else…not that either of them appeared to mind the arrangement itself.

Rosemary didn't press the subject further, another relief. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what exactly was going on in that clever mind of hers during their long, uncomfortably quiet trip back to Hogwarts.

* * *

Rose's head was spinning with all sorts of questions as Tom walked her back to her dormitory. Of course, at the forefront was her curiosity regarding Tom's choice to tell Raoul that they were seeing each other again. While she was certain convenience was a large piece of it, she couldn't help but wonder (somewhat hopefully, in fact), that there was something else behind this decision.

In addition, she was puzzled as to why he went to the trouble to bring her to Diagon Alley and invite Raoul to meet them, apparently just for the sake of convincing her of the validity of his request. After all, she had owed him this anyway as per her promise two weeks prior – a debt was a debt and she couldn't exactly have said no. So why did he care whether or not she bought the reasons behind it?

And then there were all of her questions regarding MAGI, Grindelwald, and Dumbledore.

It was bound to take a small miracle for her to clear all of this from her mind and get some sleep that night, though she expected Tom would help at least a little by providing her with a physical distraction. Things certainly seemed to be headed in this direction, anyway, when he invited himself into her dormitory upon their arrival in the Head Boy and Girl wing of Hogwarts.

"Perhaps we should begin discussing specific strategies?" he suggested tactfully while she slipped off her coat.

"Yes," she agreed airily. "We should."

But she had plans of her own. As intrigued (though somewhat nervous) as she was with the prospect of their snooping of Dumbledore, watching Tom speak so animatedly about it had gotten her adrenaline rushing most of all. And all she could think of doing in that moment was, to put things bluntly, _him_.

She gestured to her bed and he took a seat. "What are your ideas so far?" she asked him.

"Actually, I'm more curious to hear what _your_ initial ideas are."

Rosemary glanced over at him, uncertain if he was actually being serious. She had expected their mission to go pretty much the same way she assumed the rest of his schemes did, with Tom calling the shots and her following his orders. The idea of _collaborating_ on something with him was far beyond what she could have anticipated. In fact, it was quite shocking. "Really?" she asked dumbly.

"Yes, of course," he answered in his ever-smooth tone. "The two most intelligent minds in Hogwarts are better than one of them alone, wouldn't you agree?"

Rose felt her face flush hot at his surprisingly direct compliment and she turned away from him so he wouldn't see. It was quite amazing, really, that after all this time he was quite capable of making her nervous (a pleasant nervous, nonetheless). There wasn't a doubt in her mind that he was aware of this; in fact, he had probably only said it because he knew she wouldn't know how to react.

But if there was one thing that she had proven to herself the weekend prior, it was her ability to equally turn the tables on him – and that simply power wasn't something she intended to sacrifice anytime soon.

"Obviously," she forced herself to say nonchalantly. "Well," she continued, her back still toward him as she lifted her blouse over her head and dropped it to the floor beside her, "we could always create some sort of diversion and then have a look around his office."

"The portraits..." He said this as though his thoughts were far, far away. Rosemary wasn't surprised, given that her skirt had joined her blouse on the floor; she could feel his eyes burning into her back.

"Hm…That is true…" Even if they got Dumbledore out of his office, the portraits _would_ still be there, like his dutiful watchdogs. But this wasn't a question to answer in that moment, because suddenly she could feel Tom's warm breath on the back of her neck and could see his hands curling around her waist.

She grinned in delight. Yes, she most certainly_ could_ turn the tables on him.

* * *

The following morning found her at the Ravenclaw table next to Warren, who was filling his plate with an incomprehensible amount of food in preparation for that afternoon's Quidditch match. Things were quiet between them as she was too busy mulling over everything that had happened the night prior to maintain their usual degree of small talk.

There was, however, one question that was burning in her mind:

"What do you think of Grindelwald?" Rosemary asked him when she simply couldn't take it any longer.

Warren stopped eating and looked at her in surprise. Rosemary couldn't exactly blame him; Grindelwald wasn't typically a topic for casual conversation, after all. Even so, he managed to recover enough to say, "Well, er…I saw an article in _The Prophet _last week about the increase in funding to the Auror taskforce. And they quoted Minister Spencer-Moon saying that they're closer than ever to catching him."

Rosemary scoffed internally: _The Daily Prophet_ – the very same newspaper that didn't begin running stories about Grindelwald until he had been at large for months in other parts of Europe. Hardly a reliable source of information. But perhaps she was being unfair; after all, if it weren't for Tom and Raoul, she wouldn't have the first clue as to what was going on with the regime.

"So you aren't worried – at _all_?"

"Not really," he shrugged nonchalantly. Then Warren put his arm around her and said, "And you shouldn't worry either, Rose. With the Aurors in full force and all the precautions that Dumbledore has taken to secure the castle, we're perfectly safe. Besides, you have me to protect you." He grinned and kissed her forehead.

She almost laughed out loud; she didn't _need_ protecting and if she did, she certainly wouldn't trust Warren with the job given his ignorance on the matter. But Tom on the other hand…

Rosemary glanced up to see Tom discussing something with Dolohov at the Slytherin table. Rosier and another fourth year, a name she couldn't place, were seated beside him and looking at him in complete reverence.

It was then that she got it; she finally understood.

Warren would never be part of something larger like Tom was with MAGI and Grindelwald and even the Knights; it was clear that the he simply didn't care about anything going on outside the bubble that contained his life. But _Rose _wanted to be part of something larger, too. If she didn't, she wouldn't have a problem obeying the wishes of her parents and staying confined to the box that being a part of Pureblood society had provided her.

Rosemary wanted her life to have mystery and excitement. And it just so happened that these were two of the qualities that most defined Tom. With him, she could have everything she had ever wanted – and then some. Before him, her view on relationships had been rather pessimistic, but Tom had changed that completely. Though she would never tell Faye, she had even found her best friend in him.

Despite everything else she knew about him– his short temper, the tendencies toward violence– he was as intoxicating as ever. All she wanted in that moment was to be with him. In fact, she was sure she had wanted it for much longer, but simply didn't allow herself to realize it. She wanted to march over to the Slytherin table and interrupt his breakfast to tell him that she never ought to have left him.

Okay, maybe _after_ breakfast when Warren, his friends, and the entire school wouldn't be watching.

But what if Tom simply didn't feel the same way for her any longer? What if the things Markus and Faye had told her were true and that he had been messing around with the various Slytherin girls this entire time? Still, it seemed impossible that he thought of her the same way he did them. And even if he didn't feel the same way, she knew she couldn't forgive herself if she didn't take the risk.

However, this was only one side of the equation. Could she bring herself to hurt Warren so profoundly as well?

'_Yes,_' she thought automatically. She had to.

Her heart beat faster and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she continued to watch Tom from across the room. Soon, she could be his again.

"So what time should we plan on coming over?" Warren asked her suddenly, interrupting her thoughts.

"What?"

"You know, next weekend…Easter…"

_Oh, fuck._

She had forgotten that her parents had invited Warren and his parents over for Easter dinner the following weekend, along with the Avery's. As much as she ached to tell Tom, she knew that she would have to be ready to end things with Warren almost immediately after; she doubted that Tom would continue to be patient in this regard. And she certainly wasn't ready to explain to her parents why the Cramer's wouldn't be attending their supper.

Rosemary supposed that waiting another week wouldn't hurt, so long as it avoided what would certainly be a heated exchange with her parents on the topic. In fact, it was strategic; the longer they thought she was committed to Warren, the better.

'_One week,' _she told herself. _'Just one week…'_

* * *

"_Why is there happiness and comfort and excitement where you are and nowhere else in the world?" - Zelda Fitzgerald_

* * *

**Sorry for the delay - finals are this week PLUS my computer crashed and I lost my first attempt at this chapter. Sigh.**

**But anyway, I'm back! And let me tell ya, next chapter is gonna be a doozy. Schedule-wise, I'm planning to post a couple more chapters than usual over spring break, which begins next Thursday for me.(: **

**Thank you all for your patience.(: And thank you to marly4077, Mrs. ThorinOakenshield, Blerb, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, RosiePosie15, Oksanallex, kissinglink, Lady Ravanna, Guest6, CharlotteBlackwood, waistedyouth, gr8rockstarrox, and thirteen Guests (though I suspect some of you are the same person haha) for your reviews! :D I'll reply to your reviews as soon as I'm able (probably later today).**


	74. Part II - Muscle Memory

Muscle Memory

_March 30, 1945_

"Are you ready?" he asked her.

Rosemary frowned slightly at the tiny vial Tom had just placed in the palm of her hand. "I suppose."

He glanced at her impatiently. "Do you have a better idea to suggest?"

"Not particularly," she said quietly. Rosemary knew she had to, that this was a necessary form of insurance so that Dumbledore wouldn't read her thoughts and see right through their ploy…but that certainly didn't mean she liked it.

But reassurance in this form was essential. She and Tom had been practicing Occlumency every day that week in preparation for their plan and she had improved markedly (even to Tom's admission), but she felt nowhere near ready successfully deliver a string of lies to Dumbledore unaided. Rose was nearly shaking with nerves as she placed one drop of the potion into her gin and downed the glass.

Was she completely crazy for agreeing to help him? Surely they would be caught.

Tom's eyes locked with hers as she drank and she could have sworn she saw a glimmer of satisfaction in those near-black pools.

'_No. They _wouldn't_ get caught,' _she told herself firmly. This was Tom Riddle, after all.

"Alright," she sighed as she felt the effects of the drug quickly spread over her. "Let's go."

* * *

Tom was itching with adrenaline and excitement for their carefully crafted plan to unfold. While he was obviously looking forward to the undebatable success that was sure to come from it, the time they had spent scheming together all week felt somehow more important.

He was puzzled when he saw her suddenly speed ahead of him toward to end of the corridor, but when he looked up to see who had just stepped off of the staircase and onto their floor, his questions were answered. Just looking at the git made Tom want to showcase his magical talents through a certain Unforgivable Curse…or maybe two.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Rosemary met Cramer near the stairs. "Hi Love," she greeted him in a singsong voice that made Tom's lip curl in disgust. Then, to make matters worse, she leaned in and kissed him. "We were just on our way to a meeting with Headmaster Dippet..."

Tom tuned out the rest of her lie as he strode past them, knowing perfectly well that Cramer's eyes were following him as he walked upstairs and out of sight. He wished the Ravenclaw would say what was surely on his mind; that he would just _start_ something and give Tom an excuse to hex him senseless. _Coward_.

He almost shuddered when he remembered the awful word that Rosemary had called him:

_Love_.

So she _did_ tell him she loved him. Well, not exactly; she had only _called _him 'Love'. But if she told him as well, it was surely because she had to anyway. Right? And she had to kiss him. She was only keeping up appearances. After all, it was Tom that she came back to every night. It was Tom who she spent her evenings with scheming and learning Occlumency and more. So much more.

Nor had she _ever_ used that high pitched voice with _him_. He knew she only reserved that for when she was on her best behavior. And Tom supposed that her being seen around the castle with her supposed ex-lover would qualify.

These attempts at reassuring himself didn't stop him from being infuriated, however. He didn't care if she needed to keep up appearances; how _dare_ she act that way in front of him? It was blatantly unacceptable. Tom was no longer accustomed to anyone daring to defy his wishes, even unknowingly.

'_Focus,'_ he scolded himself. None of this was anything new. And, at the moment, he had far more important things to worry about than _Warren Cramer_.

When Rosemary finally caught up to him, Tom was reminded of a simple, comforting fact: she was there for _him_. They were doing this together. And soon she would see, just as he did, that this was the only way things could be for them.

* * *

Dumbledore shut the door to his office behind her and gestured for her to take a seat in the chair across from his desk. She was nervous, but her mind was pleasantly blank from her constant shield of Occlumency and the support of the drug.

"Thank you for seeing me, Professor Dumbledore…It's just…I wasn't sure that Headmaster Dippet or the other professors would understand…" she began.

Albus gazed back at her with concern, which she couldn't seem to decide whether or not was genuine. "Of course, Miss Horton. Would you like a biscuit?" he extended a silver tray to her.

"Er, sure…" She took one gingerly.

He smiled at her warmly. "What has been troubling you?"

"It's about Riddle," she started with an air of caution.

She noticed a slight raise of his eyebrow as she mentioned Tom's name. Before continuing, she glanced around nervously at the portraits, just as she and Tom had planned. "Would you mind…?"

His attention surely captivated, Dumbledore bowed his head toward her slightly before raising his wand and saying, "_Effigies abeo._"

Rosemary waited as the portraits around them slowly faded to gray, though many of them managed to send a scowl her way beforehand. Portraits loved gossip even more than people did.

"Better?" There was that warm, comforting smile again that made Dumbledore the favorite professor of the school's majority.

She nodded.

"Now, then. What is it that you wanted to discuss about Mr. Riddle?" Dumbledore's voice sounded comforting. Concerned. Though his eyes seemed to tell a different story – or was that just the drug?

The words she and Tom had rehearsed all week flowed from her lips with little thought. Under the effects of ECB, everything became easier – automatic even. "Well, Sir, I don't know how else to put this…but I don't think I can work with Tom any longer. He's arrogant and antagonistic and overly competitive in our classes…"

Rosemary was almost sure she saw the professor give a slight roll of his eyes behind his half-moon glasses. She assumed he was quite disappointed that, instead of learning something potentially useful about Tom, he had merely been subjected to the trivial complaints of a sensitive teenage girl. "Miss Horton, while I understand that these can be frustrating traits in someone you work so closely with on a regular basis, surely you were aware of them already given the history between the two of you."

"Not to this _extent_," she said with her planned air of defensiveness. "You know, I think he's just jealous –" She stopped abruptly as a high-pitched scream filled the corridor adjacent to Dumbledore's office. Right on cue.

Dumbledore and Rosemary dashed through the door to see Peggy Westermine at the end of the corridor with her hand over her mouth, pointing down at the floor around the corner. The body was just out of sight, but she could see the light brown hair of whatever sorry muggle-born Tom had selected to sacrifice for their cause.

The boy, Arthur Gould, was twitching erratically, as though he had been struck by lightning. Dumbledore immediately knelt down beside him and muttered a quick counter-curse to stop the boy's seizing.

"Did you see who attacked him, Peggy?" Rosemary asked the Gryffindor, her voice filled with concern that she hoped was convincing enough.

The girl shook her head violently, causing her blonde pigtails to smack the sides of her cheeks.

Rosemary nodded, relieved at the response though she knew that Tom wouldn't have allowed himself to be seen anyway. "He'll be just fine, Peggy. Why don't you head back to the Gryffindor common room?"

The girl nodded silently and backed away from the two of them, her eyes still wide.

When she was out of earshot, Rose turned to Dumbledore "We should take him to the Infirmary, Professor…Just to make sure he is alright."

He nodded and stood before casting a levitating charm on the carpet that Gould had conveniently landed on. "Why don't you stay here, Rosemary, and try to piece together who specifically might have done this. Discreetly, of course; the last thing the school needs is another reason to panic." The professor sounded exhausted and a little frustrated as well; Rosemary suspected she might have had something to do with that.

She nodded. "I will, Sir." Just when he was about to start down the corridor she added, "Perhaps we can resume our conversation another time?"

Dumbledore stared at her over his glasses for a few seconds as though he could see through their entire charade, but she continued to look back at him with a blank, innocent expression. "Of course, Miss Horton," he told her finally.

* * *

On Rosemary's signal, Tom slipped into Dumbledore's office. The plan had worked beautifully so far. Then again, had he really expected anything less?

It took a few long moments for it to sink in that, for the first time, there was no need to feel uneasy about being in Dumbledore's office (snooping around, no less). With Rosemary on watch in the corridor and the paintings banished, he was free to peruse the old man's belongings. Even if he didn't find anything, he hadn't been this happy in a while.

He checked the desk first – nothing.

Then he moved on to the bookshelf, carefully scanning it for anything that seemed out of place – nothing.

Tom stopped himself, then, knowing he was going about this all wrong. Dumbledore wasn't an idiot (at least not a _complete_ idiot, though even this pained him greatly to admit). He certainly wouldn't hide anything in a place that would be completely obvious…Or would he, because he would assume that whoever was snooping would have the same thoughts as Tom? What exactly was he looking for, anyway?

Tom sighed in frustration with himself. He had been so wrapped up in getting to _this_ moment with the help of Rosemary and solidifying that half of the plan that he had barely put any thought into what was supposed to happen next. This was the effect of infatuation that he loathed most of all: that foggy feeling in his mind that only seemed to lift when he was thinking of Rosemary.

But time was running out and he had to think of _something_. He stared into the fire that was smoldering in the Professor's fireplace and then it hit him: Dumbledore wouldn't hide _anything_. He wouldn't take that sort of risk, especially not if it was something as scandalous as a secret partnership between himself, Grindelwald, and MAGI. He would destroy anything even remotely related to it.

Tom dashed over to the fireplace and began sifting through the sooty mess that quickly covered his hands and soiled his school uniform. It was worth it, though, because soon his hands emerged from the ashes with scorched corner of parchment that read, simply:

"_-G"_

He knew it didn't prove anything; _'G'_ could be anyone, after all. But it certainly made the prospect of intercepting Dumbledore's mail seem a bit more worthwhile.

"What happened?" Rosemary hissed as she eyed him up and down once he exited the professor's office. "Did you find anything?"

"Meet me at my dormitory after Dumbledore comes back from the Infirmary," Tom instructed her, ignoring her questions.

He cleaned himself up while he waited for her, his nerves buzzing with excitement. This was it: the afternoon that could very well change everything between them. The run-in with Cramer earlier seemed irrelevant now. She would finally see (especially after he revealed a small secret he had kept from her) that the two of them were inevitable. Unstoppable.

* * *

"What did you find?" she demanded eagerly as soon as he opened his door and stepped aside to let her in. Gone were any traces of what had appeared to be soot on his clothes and hands.

He seemed amused at her impatience and gestured to the edge of his bed for her to take a seat. "In a moment. But first, I should confess that I may have been a bit dishonest with you earlier."

The sly smile on his face made her nervous and she sat down. "About what?"

"This," he removed the vial of ECB from his pocket and held it in front of her face, "is gin. Well, with an enchantment to match the color, of course."

Rosemary laughed and rolled her eyes. "No it's not. Don't be ridiculous."

"It is. See?" He uncapped it and brought it to his lips.

Rose tried to grab the vial from his fingers. "Tom, don't! It's not funny. It's dangerous and –" She looked at him in horror when she realized it was too late and that he had swigged the entire potion.

"Not dangerous. Unless you're Olive Hornby and Miss Horton has had one too many," he smirked as he brought the empty vial to her nose.

She inhaled. It certainly _smelled _like gin. "But…I _felt_ it," she said in disbelief.

"No you didn't." He shook his head and looked at her in amusement before tapping one of her temples lightly with a long finger. "This was all you needed."

"How do you know that Dumbledore didn't see through me? I could have ruined everything, Tom…for Raoul, for you…"

"But you didn't. You can thank me later for the invaluable guidance that I've provided you." Rosemary rolled her eyes; he was as arrogant as always. "Though I admit that I might actually be rather envious of how quickly you've picked up Occlumency. If my level of mastery in the art happened to be less, anyway…"

More than anything, she wanted to tell him right then and there exactly how she felt. She loved everything about him, she was so sure. But in that moment, she was particularly struck with his willingness to share his vast knowledge with her. She loved that she could learn so much from him, improving her magical abilities in the process.

Rose knew she couldn't tell him any of this, though – at least not yet. Her heart ached, wishing that it was only three days later and that she hadn't agreed to spending the evening with Warren when she ran into him near the stairs that afternoon. Though she had other reservations as well. She still didn't know if Tom had slept around (or perhaps still was) with the Slytherin girls she had heard so much about from Markus and Faye.

"So what did you find?" she asked weakly, still reeling from what he had revealed to her already.

He launched into his recount of the ten or so minutes he had spent in Dumbledore's office while she stood guard, and then they launched into a discussion about who _'G'_ could be and whether or not the discovery actually meant anything at all. Tom told her that he would discuss it with Raoul over the weekend while she was gone for Easter vacation and that he would catch her up when she returned.

At some point, Rosemary ended up in his lap and they snogged for a good while. Just as things were beginning to heat up, she glanced at the clock and sighed. Warren would be waiting for her.

"I have to go and meet Faye." It hurt to lie to him, but she supposed she could live with it knowing that it wouldn't be necessary for much longer.

His hand rested on her thigh, just above the top of her stocking. He smirked and gently drew his fingers just a little higher up her leg. "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure."

"And now?" His fingers danced dangerously close to her knickers.

Oh, how she wished she could stay and relish this rare, playful mood of his. It was everything she could do to lean over, kiss his jaw, and whisper "Later?" into his ear. When she inhaled his musky aftershave her entire resolve to leave was nearly derailed.

Before he had a chance to respond and potentially change her mind for good, she leapt off his lap and let herself out of his dormitory.

* * *

Things were even more awkward than usual between her and Warren that evening, though this came as no surprise given that he had spotted her with Tom earlier that day. Still, she found it highly unlikely that either of them would dare to bring it up.

Rosemary studied the wizard's chess match and debated her next move internally. She could beat Warren any day quite effortlessly, but sometimes she made poor moves just to give him a fighting chance. Judging by her current level of guilt, she figured that she would have to find a way to let him win altogether.

"It will get easier, Rose," Warren said suddenly.

"What are you talking about?"

He looked at her for a long time and then sighed. "With Tom."

"Warren, you don't have to worry. I'm over him. Really."

'_When did lying to him become so easy?'_ she wondered.

"I know that's not true," he told her, sending a shock through her system and her heart into erratic, nervous patterns. Were things going to end right then and there, just before leaving for Easter weekend? How was she _possibly_ going to explain this to her parents?

"And it's okay. I mean, I understand," Warren continued. Rosemary sighed internally in relief. "After everything that happened with your parents, I'm sure you just don't want to believe that it was all for nothing. That can be very difficult to move past. But it wasn't for nothing, because it brought _us_ together." He reached over and took his hand in hers. She felt rather ill at the sound of such unbridled sappiness. "Anyway, I understand that it's going to take some time to move past. Of course, it doesn't help that the two of you have to work together so often with your Head Girl duties…But it's going to get much easier when we leave Hogwarts, Rose. You'll see." Clearly this was something he had given quite a bit of thought.

He gazed at her with a heartbreakingly hopeful look. She wanted to tell him the truth in that moment; she really did. She wanted to tell him that in just a few days' time, _they_ would be all for nothing – not Tom and her. She wondered if Warren would think back to this moment and know that she had only kept things going to evade the inevitable confrontation with her parents for just a little longer.

Rose was perfectly aware of how exceptionally selfish this was. But she had to be selfish. For Tom…for _them_. Even so, her guilt took over as Warren leaned in to kiss her and she found herself kissing him back, if only to indulge his delusions just a little longer.

* * *

Tom attempted not to look too eager as Rosemary appeared at his door for the second time that evening. "Won't you come over?" Besides this sultry invitation, no words were exchanged. They both knew what would happen next. After she closed the door behind them, she simply leaned into him, tilted her head up, and kissed him. He kissed her back hungrily, having daydreamt about her the entire time she was with Faye, though he paused when his lips left hers and started down her neck.

The smell on her neck was strangely familiar, though out of place on her delicate flesh. It took a few seconds to hit him: Cramer. She had _lied_ to him.

Tom pulled away and took a seat on the edge of her bed as an awful weight seemed to settle itself on his chest, constricting his heart just enough so that he would feel like he was suffocating but still keep him alive. He had thought he was so close. But no – because she had left to see _him_. And do a little more than 'see' him, apparently. His entire plan had been for nothing.

She smiled at him as she disrobed, but the sight of her naked body only pushed him further into the emptiness spreading throughout him. He traced her curves with his eyes – had Cramer been touching them just moments before she arrived? What about her smooth, full breasts or the lovely, lightly manicured place between her thighs?

"What?" She gave him a puzzled look.

"Nothing," he said, his voice sounding as empty as he felt and strangely foreign to him.

She smiled again and walked gracefully to him before leaning forward and placing a kiss on his lips. Tom tried to kiss her back, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He felt weak, defeated, and betrayed. And nothing infuriated him more than those feelings.

How dare she? How dare _they_? It was unacceptable that anyone but Tom was allowed to touch her. Rosemary was his; didn't she and Cramer understand that? No. Of course not. What was he thinking, just waiting for her to come back to him? Why hadn't he just proven his possession over her and _forced_ her to return?

Because Rosemary wasn't that simple to obtain. And he knew it.

Somehow, Tom ended up with his clothes off and had climbed into bed with Rosemary. It was as though they had done this so many times that the act was purely muscle memory that required no additional thought. He couldn't bring himself to touch her in return as her hands trailed across his chest and eventually down toward his erect member.

_Muscle memory indeed…_

"Feel me," she whispered into his ear as she took his hand and led his fingers to her nether regions. His fingers just hovered near her opening as a truly torturous thought crossed his mind: had Cramer just been inside of her? Yes, he was most certainly going to be ill any moment now…

Rosemary pulled away from him suddenly. "I have a question. It's sort of personal…"

"Okay" was all he could seem to manage. Her body had been tainted. The body that had once been entirely Tom's to do whatever he pleased.

"Are the rumors true, Tom? Are you sleeping with some of the Slytherin girls?"

If anything could have possibly pushed him farther over the edge than he already was, it was surely this. What right did _she_ have to ask him about this? Was she not the one who, just earlier that day, had been in the arms of another man? The same one that she had called 'Love' in the corridor right in front of him?

It became clear to him very quickly that he needed to leave before things escalated out of his control. With this, he jumped out of bed and began separating his clothes from the tangled mess of theirs together on the floor near her bed.

He could hear her rolling her eyes in her voice, though he wouldn't look up at her to confirm. "It was just a question, Tom. You don't _have_ to answer."

After everything, after spending nearly every free hour with her teaching her Occlumency and relishing her body, _this _was how he was to be repaid? The girl _really _had some nerve. "You, of all people, have absolutely no right to ask me such a thing," he spat.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" She looked stung, which satisfied him, though only to a small degree. "I just wanted to know in case I need to get tested for anything at my annual at St. Mungo's this weekend…"

Tom gritted his teeth. _Unbelievable. _She kept making it worse and worse.

"So you're just going to leave, then?"

He continued to dress and refused to respond to her. There was a growing urge inside of him to say something– anything– that would hurt her just as much as she hurt him. But he couldn't allow himself to do it...

"Whatever. You'll be back anyway." He could hear the frustration in her voice even though she was clearly attempting to sound careless.

This comment was more than sufficient to eliminate any remaining resolve to keep his mouth shut. He laughed spitefully as he strode to the door. "I wouldn't be so sure."

"And why is that?" she challenged.

He stopped in her doorframe, turned, and locked eyes with her, his entire body flooded with the calm, overwhelming rage that he knew all too well. "Well, it's just like you said weeks ago Miss Horton – this doesn't mean anything."

* * *

"_She cast her fragrance and her radiance over me. I ought never to have run away from her... I ought to have guessed all the affection that lay behind her poor little stratagems. Flowers are so inconsistent! But I was too young to know how to love her." ― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry_

* * *

**Thanks so much to Oksanallex, Blerb, gr8rockstarrox, Guest6, RosiePosie15, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, marly4077, Lady Ravanna, and five Guest users for your reviews! I absolutely love getting readers' thoughts on the story. **

**I've already begun writing the next chapter so I'm aiming for a quick update! Stay tuned, friends, and thanks for reading. (:**


	75. Part II - Easter Dinner

Easter Dinner

_April 2, 1945_

Rosemary had done her best to avoid thoughts of Tom all weekend. But she would be on the Hogwarts Express the following day and she could no longer put off deciding how exactly she was going to deal with the situation between Tom and her. Before their spat, she had full intentions to tell him everything, but now…

She walked onto her balcony and lit a cigarette.

_Something_ had sparked his temper. But it wasn't just the question she had asked about other girls, she knew that. He had already been acting strange from the moment he came to her room. The encounter in the corridor, when she had lingered behind to see Warren, had surely bothered him. Or maybe he had read her mind and seen that she was with Warren instead of Faye.

Rosemary was angry with him, too, for the way he had reacted to her question, but clearly it hadn't been the right time to ask. Did she even really have a right to ask, given her own situation? She was too blunt when she was nervous…and Tom_ certainly _made her nervous.

Regardless, all she felt now was stupid and childish. It didn't even matter if he had been with anyone else after they had broken up (which, she realized, was also her fault). She had been so wrapped up in trying to figure out his feelings from trivial gestures that she had been blind to what had been in front of her for weeks. All the time he spent with her, the plans he had involved her in, the occasional compliments that caught her off guard, the way he touched her – it was so obvious that he felt the same way.

And she had only just realized it.

Her heart pounded excitedly and she was tempted to skip Easter dinner altogether, return to Hogwarts to find Tom, and finally tell him how she felt. But surely that would be too difficult to explain. Although she was more than ready to open her heart to Tom, Rose knew it was essential to keep the threat of her parents at bay for as long as possible.

It was almost laughable, really. Rosemary was perfectly aware that, if they got back together, she and Tom would probably be forever changed by the wounds that they had dealt the other during their time apart. Even so, they would also be in exactly the same place that they started: doing everything they could to hide their relationship from her parents.

She took a drag of her cigarette, closed her eyes, and leaned against the balcony railing. Two and a half months and she wouldn't have to explain anything to anyone ever again, unless she chose to do so. She would be free to do (and date) exactly as she pleased and could estrange herself from her family, if that's what it would come to – and she was fairly sure that it would.

* * *

Tom paced across his bedroom floor, wondering what Rosemary was thinking at that very moment. Did she loathe him completely for what he said to her in the heat of the moment? Did she have at least _some_ idea as to what had him so worked up? He knew he hadn't been _that_ direct with his feelings, but how could she fail to see any of it?

Still, he had been stupid and impulsive. Tom regretted the way he acted toward her as soon as he slammed her bedroom door behind him, but his pride had prevented him from returning.

He had allowed his unfortunate traits of impatience, jealousy, and egotism to get in the way when the simple truth of the matter was that he wanted her. And he was pretty damn sure she wanted him too, despite what she may or may not have done with Cramer.

And so, as irritated as he was with himself (and to some degree, her), he was almost positive that everything was salvageable. Perhaps, before visiting Raoul's home that evening, he could swing by her parents' estate and end this nonsense once and for all.

But he wouldn't. Showing up on her doorstep would certainly create a scene with her parents and she would hate him for that. He could be patient for one more day, but only for that long. He was done with their unending games and done with waiting. She _had_ to choose, once and for all: Cramer and her parents, or him.

* * *

"While we wait for the Avery's, why don't you take Warren for a walk in the gardens, dear? The blossoms are early," Evelyn smiled glamorously in the young couple's direction.

Rosemary nodded, her smile for the evening still glued into place, and led Warren outside by the hand. His palm was sweaty, probably from the stuffiness of her parents' sitting room.

"Do you have a smoke?" she found herself asking him, if only to find an excuse to let go of his hand. He did, thankfully.

Rosemary led him around the grounds. There wasn't much to look at because spring had only just begun and the earth was a bit damp and sticky from a recent spell of rain, but being outside in the cool air was infinitely better than being inside. For a while, she could pretend just a little less.

"Let's sit," she gestured to a bench in the center of the garden. It would have been gorgeous if it were summertime, surrounded by rose bushes and artfully trimmed hedges that Zisly cared for so meticulously. Would she ever see the gardens in their prettiest months again?

She felt Warren's eyes on her. "What are you thinking about?"

"Change," she said quietly, tilting her head back to stare up at the vast sky.

"Change isn't all bad."

She found herself smiling at the fact that soon– _very _soon– there would no longer be a need to pretend with him. "No, I suppose not."

But then he smiled back at her, so obliviously confident and she suddenly felt like crying, realizing how fucked up it truly was to be so excited to rid herself of him. After all, he was once one of her closest friends. But it wasn't entirely her fault, was it? Warren had even acknowledged the fact that she still had feelings for Tom; surely he would see _some_ of this coming.

Why did he even fancy her, anyway? She knew that she was attractive and intelligent (she _had_ to be to catch Tom's eye), but those weren't good enough reasons to stay after everything she had put him through already. Was it the simple fact that she was one of the few pureblood girls left that weren't promised to anyone already? Was it the position at Comet he was guaranteed if they were married?

She was appalled at herself when she realized that she had actually asked him why he fancied her. Warren took it well, though, and was quiet for only a moment before placing his arm around her. "Do you remember when we first met?"

"The Sorting Feast?" They were, after all, in the same house.

Warren laughed. "Well, technically yes. But we didn't _actually_ talk until our first flying lesson…"

"Oh Merlin, don't remind me." She nearly shuddered in embarrassment. Professor Swiftlar, their Flying instructor, had asked her to give the class a demonstration after he realized who her father was.

"You looked absolutely terrified." He pinched her arm lightly.

"That's because I _was_."

"But you mounted the broom, got about five feet in the air –"

"And fainted," Rose snapped and glared at him. "Yes, I remember."

"Well you were _only_ out for a minute or so. I've seen far worse on the Pitch, you know." He gave her an amused look. "Anyway, Swiftlar had me take you to the Infirmary to make sure you were alright. Madam Lalonde made you lay down and gave you some sort of potion when you told her, quite matter-of-factly, that she had given you the wrong one. We were both fairly impressed…an in the case of Madam Lalonde, a bit irritated."

"Well, I _had_ been at St. Mungo's for quite a while before coming to Hogwarts."

"Well to me, you looked absolutely brilliant...and maybe a bit arrogant. I don't know, I suppose I'm not doing a very good job of explaining it, but you've just always been _different_, Rosemary."

"That's sweet of you to say," Rosemary told him dryly.

"Different in a good way," he grinned and kissed her forehead. "When we first went steady, a few of my Quidditch mates told me that you were too smart for a girl…"

"_Excuse _me?" she asked incredulously, sitting up straight and shimmying her shoulders out from under his arm.

Despite her response, Warren didn't seem perturbed. "They didn't mean anything _bad _by it; they just warned me that you might be difficult. A challenge. Thankfully, I rather like a good challenge."

Rosemary smiled outwardly but was fuming inside, knowing that she had to maintain her composure for at least another couple of hours, until dinner was through. So that was all (or at least partially) what she was to him: a _challenge_, something to win at. It certainly explained his persistence, she supposed. He only thought that he loved her, but she knew the truth now. With this realization, she felt a considerable portion of her guilt disappear.

"Let's go inside," she said icily. "I think I just heard the Avery's apparate."

* * *

Raoul opened his Cherrywood cigar box and offered one to Tom, who shook his head. "Jennings wanted me to pass along the message that he went on a holiday and that training will have to be postponed until next weekend."

Tom scowled. He loathed any unexpected change of plans.

Beaumont smirked. "Relax, Riddle. Given the circumstances, it's likely that you'll be the only competitor who decides to show up anyway."

Unsurprisingly, Tom didn't find this amusing.

"It's nice to see the two of you together again," Raoul said distantly, before Tom could fire off his retort. "Such a sharp pair…" he muttered to himself.

Of course, the comment only soured Tom's mood further, given his impatience for Rosemary to return to Hogwarts. "Are you finished yattering so that we can talk about Dumbledore and Grindelwald? That _is _why I'm here."

"What is there to talk about? You know as well as I do that this doesn't prove anything." Raoul held up the singed piece of parchment. "'_G'_ could be anyone…didn't his cousin, Gunnilda, take on the Transfigurations course while he's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Yes, but why would someone who works in the castle send him letters? Obviously this doesn't _prove_ anything, but it's one step closer, isn't it? I was thinking we might start intercepting his mail…"

Raoul shook his head. "You know that's too risky. We just have to wait for another sign."

"Waiting – _that's _your plan?" Tom asked incredulously and stood from the couch. "Grindelwald has completely toppled the German Ministry and could do the same to the French and British governments any day now. Why aren't you _doing_ anything about it? What about all your _connections_? Why don't you put them to good use?"

"They have families, Tom. No one wants to go out and fight this war. The Aurors –"

" –are doing an utterly shit job."

"They _are_ getting slaughtered," Raoul admitted quietly. "I know you're right, that we're losing this war. The Ministry is going to cave any day now…"

"And your plan is to wait."

"It does sound rather pathetic, doesn't it?" Beaumont sighed and Tom nodded.

But waiting certainly wasn't _Tom's_ plan.

* * *

Zisly took the Avery's coats as Rosemary greeted them. Markus' parents wandered into the dining room, where Warren's father was discussing his work at the Ministry and how things had changed for the worse with the looming threat of Grindelwald.

"Bloody hell, Rose, why did you have to invite _him_?" Markus scowled while looking pointedly into the dining room where Warren was seated with his parents.

"I didn't, actually," she said under her breath in a falsely sweet tone. "You can thank my parents for that."

"Play nice," she smirked and he sighed in frustration.

Warren was suddenly at her side and stuck out his hand to greet the Slytherin. "Nice to see you, Markus." Rosemary found herself annoyed at this little show of Warren's traditionalist, pureblood nature. What point in there was pretending that they liked each other?

Markus smirked down at the outstretched hand and then lunged close to his face. "Watch it, Cramer." Rosemary fought the urge to giggle as Warren dropped his hand to his side, looking slightly embarrassed and watched Markus stroll into the other room to greet Rosemary's parents.

She looked up at Warren and shrugged nonchalantly. "It's just the way he is."

Rosemary was quiet through most of dinner, as her thoughts kept floating back to Tom. The focus, as always, was all on the boys anyway. And when it _was _about her…well _that_ certainly wasn't a good thing either:

"What did I tell you, Markus? Your worst mistake was ever letting this lovely girl go." Mrs. Avery gestured in Rosemary's direction. She had almost entirely forgotten that, once upon a time, she and Markus had actually dated.

"Merlin, Mum!" Markus groaned. "Give it a rest…It's been like two years already."

"I'm quite sure it had more to do with Rosemary than it did with Markus." Evelyn looked at her daughter pointedly and an awkward silence fell around the table.

"I'm just glad you haven't been _expelled_ yet…Slytherin seems to be far worse than I remember it with the parties, the _drugs_," Mrs. Avery continued. Rosemary felt a bit bad for Markus – his mum never knew when to stop talking.

"Well Rosemary knows all about _that_," said Markus pointedly, causing her eyes to widen slightly. Was Markus _really_ doing this to her, just to get the spotlight off of himself? "Being Head Girl and all…"

She nearly sighed in relief. "Yes, we've been working with the professors to investigate –"

"Your friend Tom is Head Boy, isn't he?" Mrs. Avery interrupted to ask Markus, who nodded cautiously. "He's such a nice boy. Respectful, charming…Can you believe that he was in the International Dueling Tournament last summer?" It was all Rosemary could do not to bury her face in her hands or hide under the table. Apparently, Markus' mum was clueless to the trauma that the simple mention of Tom's name surely brought Rose's parents.

Basil cleared his throat and quickly changed the topic, to prevent another uncomfortable silence from settling over them. "So, I hear Ravenclaw and Slytherin are in close running for the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup this year…I'd love to see another game. I will be at Hogwarts next weekend for the seventh-year job fair. Who's playing?"

'_What? Since when was he planning on attending that?' _Rosemary wondered, hoping this wouldn't mean putting off her breakup with Warren for another week. Judging by her row with Tom prior to the weekend, tensions between them would only continue to rise until the truth finally came out.

"Well Slytherin will be playing. Ravenclaw will be there, too, but only to make fools of themselves." Markus said snidely.

"Ah, Quidditch banter…Brings you right back, doesn't it Stuart?" Basil grinned at Warren's father, who nodded jovially.

It looked as though the entire conversation was about to be taken over by talk of their old Quidditch days when Warren suddenly cleared his throat and stood from his chair. "Before we begin dessert, there's something I'd like to say." He sounded nervous for some reason, and from her seat right next him she could tell that his hands were shaking slightly. "I'd like to thank Mr. and Mrs. Horton for being such gracious hosts this evening. But more importantly, I'd like to thank them for raising such a wonderful daughter." He glanced down at Rose and smiled. "I only hope that I can one day give her everything she could ever need or want…and that she'll provide me the opportunity."

Warren lowered himself to one knee and suddenly she couldn't seem to breathe.

"Rosemary Alana Horton, will you marry me?"

Her stomach sank in panic and a chill spread over her as she looked at Warren smiling up at her, and then around the room to see Markus shocked and hopelessly confused, Cramer's parents overjoyed, and her parents eyeing her with an apprehensive and borderline threatening glare.

* * *

Faye slid the door to Rosemary's compartment open and strode inside. "You would _never_ guess who I just saw Becca snog – _oh my gods what is on your fucking hand?_"

Rose calmly marked the page of her book and looked up to see an utterly appalled look on Faye's face. "It's temporary."

"_What_?" she asked shrilly.

"Sit down, won't you?" Rosemary gestured to the bench across from her. Faye did as she requested, though the look of horror remained on her face.

"Okay, I'm sorry, but I have to ask: have you completely _lost it_?"

"First off, I thought you said you'd be happy for me regardless of who I ended up with?"

"That's when I thought you would still come to your senses," Faye hissed.

Rosemary was about to explain the entire thing when Markus and Adam let themselves in the compartment. Markus grabbed her arm and yanked it in front of Adam's face. "See? What did I tell you?"

"Oh shit," Adam said solemnly.

"Now boys, Rosemary was just about to explain what exactly happened this weekend," said Faye.

"Well I'm all ears, because I was _there_ and I can't explain what happened," Markus glared at her.

"Really? You have _no _idea?" Rosemary asked him incredulously. "Didn't you see the way my parents were looking at me when he asked?"

"No. I was a little preoccupied trying to figure out how in the hell I'm going to save my arse when Riddle finds out about it and the fact that _I was there_ when it happened," Markus snapped.

"Well, the look on my parents' faces was perfectly clear to me: "say yes or else". I can just about guarantee that I wouldn't be on this train back to Hogwarts if I had said 'no'. Especially in front of _his_ parents and everything…"

"That's probably true," Faye acknowledged. "But what exactly is your plan, then? You have to break things off with Warren and tell them about Tom _eventually_."

"I don't know," Rosemary admitted. "But until I graduate, pureblood law states that they can still marry me to whomever. The longer I keep my parents from getting suspicious about Tom and I, the better." She sighed. "I just have to talk to Tom and tell him everything…he'll probably know what to do. But I need you all to keep your mouths shut until I have the chance to talk to him." Rosemary glanced at Markus pointedly.

"Hey, why are you looking at _me_? I can keep a secret!"

"No, you can't," Faye rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, Rosemary, I'll put a Silencing Curse on him or something." Then she reached for Rosemary's hand and slid the ring off her finger. "Bloody hell, Warren _is_ mad about you." Faye said in awe, holding it up to the sunlight streaming through the compartment window. "You're going to destroy him, aren't you?"

Rosemary sighed. "Maybe."

"Oh well," Faye grinned. "Warren had to know what he was getting himself into."

"I think so, too," Rosemary said cynically. "My father offered him a position– an _executive_ position– at Comet, not even five minutes after he proposed."

* * *

"_Of late, she had felt coldness in herself, and though she feared it, she loved it too, for it made her strong." ― Catherynne M. Valente_

* * *

**Thank you to Blerb, marly4077, Oksanallex, RosiePosie15, Lillithroseriddle12345, gr8rockstarrox, Lady Ravanna, and nine guest users for your reviews! I recently gained some really great insight about where the story is going and I hope that you saw that reflected in this chapter. I always appreciate constructive feedback, as I don't have a beta or anyone proofing this story and usually rely on only my own perspective of the events. Writing this way is great because it's efficient and I obviously have a ton of autonomy, but sometimes it does get difficult to keep the full picture in mind.**

**Anyway, I sort of reworked some of Part II, so that took a bit of time this week. Already halfway through the next chapter, though!(:**


	76. Part II - The Second First Kiss

The Second First Kiss

_April 3, 1945_

He drummed his fingers on the Slytherin table impatiently and gazed at Rosemary from across the Great Hall. It was rather odd, but she seemed to be getting far more attention from her housemates than usual – and even a few passersby from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. As most of the social conventions of his peers were either uninteresting, not useful, or eluded him completely, he wasn't quite sure what to make of the sight.

Thankfully, the attention around her soon waned as those around her became more engrossed in other conversations and the food in front of them; And soon after, she was staring right back at him. He watched as her eyes fell to her plate and he did the same, only to find that his neat pile of green peas had been rearranged to spell:

'_Talk, 9 pm?_'

Tom glanced up at her and nodded once, rather pleased that she too felt the desire to work things out after their row the week prior (or so he assumed). He only wished it could happen before the emergency Knights meeting he was planning to hold that evening.

In fact, if he wasn't so preoccupied with thoughts of Rosemary, he would be in a state of full-fledged panic after what Raoul had told him the night prior:

Tom had just stood to leave when Raoul suddenly said, "I didn't want to tell you this, but I know I owe it to you anyway…"

Tom regarded the sponsor curiously. "Go on."

"As you know, I have an informant in Grindelwald's regime. And while he isn't high in the ranks, some of their most extensive plans eventually trickle down to him. One of these, as you've predicted, is apparently a takeover of the Ministry. How they're planning to do it is rather strange, really…My informant doesn't really know the specifics, but apparently Grindelwald has some strategy to accomplish mind control on a massive scale; a method even more powerful than the Imperius Curse. And it makes sense, I suppose. I've always thought his numbers were vastly exaggerated in the papers. A hundred, _maybe_, spread all across Europe. But with this charm, curse, or whatever it is that they've developed, he doesn't need large numbers."

"When did you find out about this?" Tom demanded.

"Just this morning."

"When is it _happening_?"

"I'm not sure. Soon. A couple weeks…a month, maybe? Anyway, this is what I meant when I said there's nothing to do but wait. Surely the Aurors are aware of this already, as they have their own informants. But how can they protect themselves – or anyone else, for that matter – against something that is completely unprecedented?"

Tom nodded. Even if the Aurors wanted to ambush Grindelwald before his plan was set into motion, they couldn't. According to Raoul, he moved locations daily – sometimes multiple times a day. Anyone who had been sent to find him had disappeared and never returned. Only his most trusted followers knew where to find him, but the minor members like Raoul's and the Ministry's informants didn't even know their identities. It occurred to him that, if he wasn't so appalled by Grindelwald's political ideals, he would probably respect him quite a bit for his meticulously constructed regime.

"So by saying we should wait and see what happens, you're really saying that it's inevitable he'll win?"

Raoul downed his glass of bourbon and stood, looking suddenly exhausted. "Yes, I suppose that is what I'm saying."

"Well suit yourself," Tom said in half-amusement. In the couple of minutes that their conversation had lasted, he had already come up with at least five plans of action to choose from.

A day later he had eliminated two, but was still deciding between the others. Even so, he knew he had to get the Knights on board and prepare them as soon as possible. They needed to be ready at a moment's notice.

He turned to the platinum blonde wizard that was sitting two places down on his left. "Gather the others after dinner, Malfoy. We have _much_ to discuss after the long weekend."

On the other side of him, Avery burst into a violent coughing fit.

"Chew and swallow, Avery. It's so simple that I thought even _you_ could manage it," jeered Dolohov. "Apparently not."

Avery glared at him and gave him the finger but he didn't deliver the snapping retort that Tom was expecting. Perhaps they were all tired from the train. No matter – he would make their meeting short…Rosemary would be waiting for him, after all.

* * *

"The wizarding world has reached a pivotal moment," Tom began after the crowd of his followers had gathered and settled. With this, he launched into a quick recount of what he had heard through Raoul. He watched as many of them exchanged worried glances at the news.

Tom was anxious too, because he was still unsure of how Rosemary would react to his plan with the Knights. He had hoped to tell her before the others to ensure she understood why everything he would do was necessary. Still, if things were the way he thought (and hoped) they were between them, he was fairly confident that she would end up on his side.

This would be the ultimate test, he supposed. He needed someone he could trust with _anything_ moving forward, someone that would stand by him regardless of what happened; and it was time for her to prove whether or not she could fulfill that roll. If she was the Rosemary he had fallen for, the one that he thought he knew so well, the answer was 'yes'. If not, he supposed he didn't really want her anyway.

"The time for action is now. _This_ is what you've all been training for. Of course, our end goal is to banish the mudbloods from much of wizarding society and, most importantly, Hogwarts. But as we've discussed time and time again, Grindelwald has to be taken care of _first_. "

The reactions of his followers ranged from slightly terrified to understanding nods, but Tom was pleased that the understanding nods seemed to be the majority. "We will have several meetings over the next couple of weeks as Dolohov and I solidify the plan," he continued. "But we need to move quickly and that means you'll need to be ready at a moment's notice. There's no longer room for weakness or hesitation. It's time you prove your loyalty once and for all, my friends. It's time you prove that you're worthy of this endeavor. So this week, we're going to kill some mudbloods."

An excited murmur spread across the room, which grew louder and louder until Tom began speaking again and the buzz rapidly fell to silence. "You'll work in groups– five or so, I'm thinking– to decide your exact plan of attack. Extra points for brutality, of course," he smirked. "And because I'm so generous, I'll even let you decide who you're going to kill." An excited laugh rippled through the crowd.

"Each group will execute their plan at the same time this Friday, during the seventh-year career mixer. Most of the staff will be there and we seventh-years can slip in and out without being easily noticed."

Much of the room looked around at each other excitedly, their minds no doubt filling with violent scenarios and a list of mudbloods that would be potentially subjected to their chosen method of torture.

"While this may go without saying, I do feel the need to bring it up: if any of you get caught, your loyalty is to everyone sitting around you. And if you decide to breathe even a _word _of anything we've ever discussed or accomplished, rest assured that I _will_ kill you myself." Tom narrowed his eyes and looked around to every other pair in the room. A thick silence spread over his followers and a small, sinister smile crept onto his face. "Anyway, I suppose that's all. Have a pleasant evening."

The meeting adjourned, though it took quite a while for the Knights to go their separate ways given the excitement. Tom was quite proud of himself in that moment as he looked around at them, for he alone had created this. He just hoped that Rosemary respected the accomplishment as much as he did.

* * *

Tom was puzzled that there was no response when he knocked on her door at nine p.m. sharp, but assumed that she was probably just running a few minutes late in getting back. He strode across the hall and let himself into his dormitory to await her return, only to see her sitting in his armchair near the fireplace reading a book.

"Looks like someone's been slacking with their door-locking charms," she smirked up at him as he entered.

"I suppose I deserved that," he smirked back at her, thinking of all the times he had let himself into her room without her permission.

"So," She calmly placed down her book, one of the titles on Occlumency that he had leant her, and folded her hands in her lap. "We need to talk."

But something on her hand had caught his eye and suddenly he felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. It was glimmering and beautiful, and probably recklessly expensive. Worst of all, though? It suited her. It looked as though it had been made specifically for her elegant hand. Tom wondered briefly if he would be ill or faint. Or both.

"Get out," he breathed coldly, his eyes still transfixed on the jewels that had apparently sealed his fate.

"No," she told him, while crossing her arms over her chest like a small, pouting child. "Not until you hear what I have to say."

"Fine. _I'll_ leave and I strongly advise that you be elsewhere when I return," he snapped and turned for the door.

Even in his devastation, an odd feeling of relief settled within him. As much as he wanted Rose, what he wanted even more over the last several weeks was simply a definite answer. There was a part of him that thought he might even be okay if they were truly over, just as long as it put an end to his incessant agonizing about where they actually stood. The constant flood of emotions over the past several weeks had worn on him and he was just beginning to realize how exhausted he truly was.

This was it; he was through with their games and the back and forth. They were over. Everything was over.

"Wait! Tom, our affair…or whatever it was…it wasn't a mistake." She had leapt from the chair, dashed across the room, and grabbed his arm just before he reached the door.

"Well, I'm sure your _fiancé _would love to hear that," he snarled at her automatically, tearing his arm from her grip.

She rolled her eyes. "He's not _really_ my fiancé, Tom."

Was she completely delusional? "Well based on _that_ he certainly is." He glared pointedly down at her hand.

Rosemary sighed, slid the ring off her finger, and slipped it into her pocket. "Are you going to let me explain, or not?"

He knew he had to listen and his stomach sank at the realization. It wasn't because he owed anything to her – he didn't (especially not after _this_). It wasn't because he even _wanted_ to hear what she had to say. There was, however, one unfortunate reality that made it impossible for him to leave: he loved her and that alone forced him to hold onto any shred of optimism that things still might work out. If he left this time, things would truly be over between them…that much was plain as day to him. So he _had_ to stay – _had _to listen, because the part of him that loved her overpowered the part of him that simply wanted their turmoil to meet its end. Love made him so pitifully weak, he found himself thinking.

She looked at him expectantly and his jaw tightened. "You want to talk? So talk," he said finally.

"Can we, er…at least sit down or something?"

"Horton," he said warningly, wondering if her sole purpose in life was to test his patience.

"Alright…alright," Rosemary said with a long sigh. She was clearly distressed and kept playing with her hands. He was about to snap at her again in impatience when she looked into his eyes and said, "I only said yes because he did it in front of my parents, and his."

This explanation was infinitely better, of course, than one of the alternatives that he had anticipated. Still, he was bothered considerably. He let out a short laugh and she looked wounded as a result, but he was far too worked up to attempt an apology. "Are you listening to yourself?"

"I suppose I'm failing to see what is so amusing to you," Rosemary replied tightly.

"Oh, it's not amusing. This is pathetic, and you know it. The Rosemary I –" he stopped himself just in time from admitting that he loved her. "The Rosemary I _knew_ wasn't afraid of her parents. _She_ stood up to them."

"Well sometimes rebelling doesn't work, Tom," she snapped. "It's a nice thought, but completely impractical. They can legally keep me from Hogwarts, you know. And they can marry me to _anyone they want_ until I finish school. So if doing what I did is pathetic, so be it. All I knew was that, after our argument last week, I needed to get back here and talk to you. I needed to tell you –"

"What? What did you need to tell me?" His heart began to pick up speed and his anger toward her began to melt away. He could hardly believe it; was this the moment he had waited so very long for?

She turned away from him and strode to his window. "Well first off, that I'm sorry I asked you about other girls. I know it's absolutely none of my business, but I was jealous after everything that Markus and Faye said about–"

"_What?_"

"Nevermind," she said quickly, her back still facing him. "Anyway, I know it wasn't fair. I'm sorry. And while we're on the topic, Warren and I never, you know…did anything."

The wave of relief that washed over him upon this admission was nearly enough to bring him to his knees. But instead, he somehow found himself crossing the room, closing the space between them.

"I'm sorry about so much, Tom," she continued. "But most of all, I'm sorry that I ever ended things between us. I don't know what I was thinking –"

"Rosemary," Tom interrupted evenly. He knew _exactly_ what he needed to say in that moment: those simple words that he had waited so very long to tell her.

"–because I don't even feel like myself without you. But I just need you to know that –"

"_Rosemary,_" he bowed his head and repeated into her ear, more insistently this time. It was becoming harder for him to breathe and he could tell from her sudden sniffling that she was crying.

"– I lied to you, Tom. This…everything we did…it _all_ meant something. It meant _everything_ and still does–"

"Rosemary!" he bellowed and grabbed ahold of her shoulders, spinning her around to face him.

"– because I love you," she concluded softly, looking up at him with her blue eyes that were a shade darker than usual due to the tears that had formed over them. "And I always have."

She had beaten him to it, so it seemed. So instead, he kissed her. He pulled her in closer and closer – as close as humanly possible. So close that he couldn't tell if the racing heartbeat he felt was hers or his own.

The kiss was explosive, and he could feel it spreading through his body like every artery, vein, and capillary had suddenly burst. He'd been kissing her for weeks, but not like this…Not like the way he was _meant_ to kiss her. If there was one thing in his world that had ever been right, it was this kiss and he knew it.

While it certainly crossed his mind to toss her on the bed and take her, he increasingly found himself wanting to enjoy this simple, gorgeous moment between them. Tom cupped her face in his hands and explored every space of her mouth as though it were the first time he kissed her all over again.

And it truly did remind him of the first time he had kissed her. But something was hugely different, as well. While their real first kiss had been wonderful, this one felt far more profound, as though it marked the beginning of something far superior than what they ever had before.

He was all too aware that he would need to come down from this divine high at some point, if only for a quick breath, but instead he kept pushing his lungs just a little farther. Just when he thought they might give, she pulled away and from the slightly dazed look on her face he knew that the kiss had affected her just as much as it did him.

For what he assumed was a few seconds, though just as easily could have been minutes or hours, they simply stood there staring at each other. He wanted her. He wanted her _so bad_. And now, he had her.

Well sort of, he realized, with a rather unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach. In his devastation over the news of her engagement and elation over her subsequent confession, he had forgotten that one very important question still hung in the balance: would she stand by him, even if she knew he had murdered, and would again? Would she understand that, to defeat Grindelwald and accomplish everything he wanted to, he would have to do things she probably wouldn't like?

He knew that these questions were more important than his emotions and that he would need to resign himself to the way that she would answer them, even if he was afraid of losing her forever. Because if he did lose her, it would be perfectly clear that she had never truly understood him anyway...and that simply wasn't the version of Rosemary he wanted.

"If you still want this– _us_– after Friday evening, I'm yours," he told her finally, his face so close to hers that their lips brushed as he spoke.

"I don't understand," she shook her head and pulled away from him slightly. "What's Friday evening?"

"You'll have to wait and see." He gave her a small smile.

"I don't suppose you could give me _some_ sort of hint?" She laughed nervously.

"No. But if you mean everything you said – if you truly love me– then you have nothing to worry about."

She nodded slowly, though continued gazing at him curiously.

He kissed her forehead and then his expression grew stern. "Another thing: don't speak to me again until things are over between you and that pathetic git. For good."

"I understand," she said quickly. "But what should we do about my –"

"We'll figure it out." Tom said shortly. He wasn't intimidated by the thought of her mother or father any longer; if they even _tried_ to give them any trouble, Tom was certain he could curse or threaten them into acquiescence. "Trust me, Rosemary, we will." He took her hand and led her to his door, though every part of him was screaming at him to keep her with him there in his dormitory forever and kiss her over and over again like he just had.

When he willed himself to betray this urge and opened the door instead, she pulled herself to him and kissed the side of his neck, just below his ear. It was a spot that drove him crazy, a fact which he was sure she was perfectly aware of. "I do love you, Tom. Completely."

He kissed her lightly on the lips. "Prove it, then."

* * *

"_I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self-respect. And it's these things I'd believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn't all she should be. I love her and it is the beginning and the end of everything." ― F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

**Thank you to RosiePosie15, CharlotteBlackwood, Mrs. ThorinOakenshield, AUAHAHHAHA, Oksanallex, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, ShatteredSoul37, Lady Ravanna, gr8rockstarrox, and six guest users for your reviews! Sadly, the end of my spring break has arrived, but I was glad I got to post at least one extra chapter over the break.(:**

**I have an eventful couple of chapters coming your way! **


	77. Part II - Opportunities Abound

Opportunities Abound

* * *

"_Won't we be quite the pair?—you with your bad heart, me with my bad head. Together, though, we might have something worthwhile." ― Therese Anne Fowler_

* * *

_April 6, 1945_

Rosemary waited in line at the seventh-year job fair registration table, growing only slightly uncomfortable as Loretta took the place behind her. Thankfully, Emily wasn't in sight.

She had hoped they could simply stand in silence, but it appeared that this was not in the cards. "Congratulations on your engagement, _Rosemary_," Loretta said suddenly; Rosemary turned to see the brunette glaring at her.

"Thank you," she said with an air of polite indifference, as though nothing untoward had happened between Emily and herself. But then the guilt she had felt chronically for months began to weigh on her. Even though she and Emily Springer had never been _that_ close of friends, what Rosemary had done and said was fairly awful. It was with this rare, sudden burst of conscience that she found herself asking: "How's Emily been?"

Loretta regarded her coolly. "She's great, actually. Haven't you heard? She's been going steady with Fawcett for weeks now." She said this fact as though this was a personal insult to Rosemary, as though she would be hugely offended.

But she wasn't, of course. She really didn't even find the news particularly interesting, besides maybe the fact that Fawcett was one of Warren's best mates. "I heard. Good for her," Rose said pleasantly.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them and they moved up a few spots in line.

Loretta began again in hushed tones, "What in the hell happened, Rosemary? First you left Avery for Tom and then Tom for Warren. And then there were rumors that you had gotten back together with _Tom _under Warren's nose. And now you're engaged to Warren?!"

The existence of these rumors was news to her, not that the rumors were entirely surprising, however. She and Tom had undeniable chemistry and it didn't seem out of the question that others would take notice, just as their close friends had. It _was_ rather embarrassing, though, and she found herself wondering briefly what else had been said behind her back.

But then she decided not to care. At this point, the only opinion that was of any real consequence to her was Tom's anyway. Nor was there any need to explain herself. "It's a long story," she said nonchalantly just as she reached the front of the line.

* * *

As much as Tom absolutely loved hearing over and over again that his marks were at the very top of his class and that his accomplishment outweighed those of many considerable wizards, the entire event was rather tiring. Few of the conversations had struck his interest and though he certainly had a picture in mind of how he wanted his life to end up, he was still relatively clueless as to how to achieve it.

He could see himself teaching at Hogwarts, but would only seriously consider the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. But now that Professor Merrythought had already retired, this was all dependent on whether or not Dumbledore would continue to maintain the post.

If there was one thing he did know, however, it was that he certainly didn't have the patience to deal with the inefficiency of the Ministry on a daily basis. As such, it was rather impossible for him seriously consider any offers he received from the multitude of officials attempting to court him into joining their departments that evening. But Tom, forced to sport his polite façade, would pretend to entertain them anyway.

And then, invariably, his mind would begin to wander and he would glance around the Great Hall for a glimpse of Rosemary. A feeling of satisfaction would hit him as his eyes landed on her, not only because of her profound beauty, but because he knew that she was his. _Almost_, at least.

He had replayed the scene of earlier that week again and again in his mind, addicted to the way her mouth looked as she admitted she loved him. Even so, Tom had been in a rotten mood in Potions two days prior upon noticing that the engagement ring was still on her finger. But he was cheered considerably when they bumped hands in a simultaneous reach for a vial of rat hairs, causing a shy blush had made an ephemeral appearance just below her cheekbones. This little show of how his mere presence could affect her was precisely the reminder of her sentiments that he needed.

Things between them felt fresh all over again. The only thing left for him to do now was to wait for his plan with the Knights to unfold and to wait for Rosemary to return to him once more. And this time, her return would be her last, as he would not be allowing her to get away ever again.

Of course, this line of thought always brought questions of logistics to mind. Increasingly, he found himself hoping that, when she finally told her parents about them, Basil would try to interfere and provide Tom the opportunity to put him in his place. Compared to his and Rosemary's first go-around, Tom had grown stronger in every sense of the word. And he was more than ready to prove it.

Maybe even that night, if given the chance (though given his existing plans he forbade himself from doing anything too rash): unsurprisingly, her father was at the event representing Comet. Tom watched in amusement as he and Barnaby Ollerton, one of the co-founding brothers of Cleansweep, occasionally shot venom-filled glares at one another from across the room.

It was then that he noticed a youngish bloke striding toward him and Tom recognized him immediately, as one of the seventh-years at last year's dueling competition at Durmstrang. Tom remembered his pale blue eyes and the way they were set just slightly too far apart, which made him look a bit eerie.

"Tom Riddle, yes? I'm not sure if you remember me, but my name is Davor Bukowsky. We met briefly last year at Durmstrang…" As he spoke, he exuded an air of prosperity and class that Tom would have envied, if he hadn't mastered the art of doing the same. Then again, it seemed like there was little overall to envy anyway. Davor must have been working for a fairly pathetic company if they couldn't even manage to send someone with more than a year's work experience.

"I don't recall," Tom lied to avoid making Bukowsky feel important, but extended his hand.

Davor shook it and then lit a cigarette. "Any interesting offers so far?"

"A few from the Ministry. So, no, not particularly."

The Durmstrang graduate scoffed. "Why anyone would choose to work there is beyond me. There's no upward movement! People enter, and get stuck in the bureaucratic mud, as it were. My company, on the other hand, pays at least _twice_ as much and nearly everyone has the opportunity for promotion – except mudbloods, of course."

Tom's interest was predictably sparked. "And what company is that?"

"MagicAll Goods, Incorporated – MAGI, for short. I'm sure you've heard of it?"

"I have," Tom attempted to say as plainly as possible.

"We're looking to hire several new graduates. You might be pleased to know your name is at the top of the list, given your…accomplishments." Tom was pleased by the slight air of envy that Bukowsky had put into this last word.

Out of sheer curiosity, Tom asked him several questions about MAGI and the position. And he had to admit, the more he learned, the more he was tempted to sell his soul to MAGI right then and there.

Bukowsky explained that he was rarely at the MAGI headquarters themselves and spent most of his time traveling the world with a small team of coworkers, visiting country after country to find new products for MAGI to make or new techniques to make their existing ones. And the best part, which Davor told him in hushed tones, was that his particular group specialized in dark objects.

He found he rather liked Davor the more they spoke. He reminded Tom of many of the Knights members as he recounted his tales from abroad and the various mishaps he and his group had triumphed. His descriptions were rather brutal, though always with a touch of refinement.

Tom wondered briefly what Raoul or Rosemary would say if they knew he had hit it off with a MAGI employee. Rosemary would be horrified, he was sure. But even if the company was involved with Grindelwald and as evil as Raoul had made it out to be, surely there were _parts_ of it that weren't all bad. However, it also occurred to him that it was fairly public knowledge that he and Beaumont knew each other from the Tournament – what if attempting to recruit Tom was just some piece of their larger plan?

Regardless, Tom was sure enough in his abilities to prevent himself from being used by anyone. Plus, if he took the position, it would provide him a real look at MAGI…from the inside, this time.

There was also his sheer interest in the job as well as the concept of money. He certainly needed _that_…especially if he was planning to give Rosemary everything he wanted to. This was truer than ever considering the prospect that the Tournament might be cancelled any day now, eradicating any prize money he might have won.

After weighing all of this in his mind, he brought his conversation with Davor to a close by requesting an owl with the application materials.

* * *

Rosemary was utterly bored with the evening. Not to mention the absolute torture of watching Tom saunter around, looking particularly sharp in his suit, when she knew all too well that there was nothing she could do about her hotness for him. But, if all went well, that would be changing fairly soon. She had been waiting all week for that night, after which she could officially give herself to him again.

So far, things were going according to the plan she and Faye had come up with over a bottle of wine the night prior. She was avoiding Warren intentionally, as she had decided to end things with him as soon as the job fair ended and her father left Hogwarts. Then all she would have to do was wait and see whatever Tom had up his sleeve.

Faye had been little help in this regard, merely hinting that the Knights had _something _planned for that evening (though Rosemary had already suspected their involvement in whatever Tom had been referring to anyway). Then Faye had told her that she didn't know the details and that Markus and Adam had refused to discuss it with her.

Rosemary wasn't surprised, but it did serve to unnerve her further; things must have been rather serious if even Markus could keep his mouth shut about it. But surely it couldn't be _that_ bad…

Who was she kidding? It was Tom. It could be literally anything.

Even so, the question on her mind was far closer to 'how hard would it be to get over?' rather than 'would she still want to be with him?' The invigoration and hopefulness for the future that she had felt upon pouring out her heart was far too gorgeous a feeling to just throw away, especially after the last few months she had spent pining for him (both consciously and not).

"Excuse me?" She felt a tap at her shoulder.

_Oh Merlin, please don't let this be another Ministry hack looking for a pretty, young secretary…_

"I came to speak with someone specifically and I was hoping you could point me in the right direction."

The man who tapped her shoulder looked to be a soft-spoken and rather bookish type, with thick-rimmed glasses. He looked young; if she had to guess, she would say he was in his early 30s or so, and he stood a few inches shorter than Tom.

"Of course," Rosemary smiled easily at him, mostly in relief that he didn't disturb her just to deliver a line. "Who is it that you're looking for?"

"A girl by the name of Rosemary Horton…Would you know her, by chance?"

She raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Why yes, she's…me."

"Ah, well what a happy coincidence! It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Horton." He stuck out his hand and she took it curiously. "My name is Blair McHughes."

Rosemary's eyes widened. BlairMcHughes had only been her career idol for as long as she could possibly remember. He was the Healer-in-Charge of the Phinney Woolsledge Potion Poisonings Ward at St. Mungo's and she had read every book and paper he had ever published. It was only then that she realized she had never actually seen a picture of him.

"I'm a Healer at St –"

"I know," she interrupted, and then kicked herself mentally. "I'm sorry, how rude of me. It's just…I've read all your work and I'm such a big fan –"

"I'm flattered." The way he bowed his head slightly when he said so made her believe he was being genuinely modest. "Though it has come to my attention that you have quite the impressive resume, yourself."

Rosemary blushed appropriately. "Oh, erm, thank you Sir," she managed, albeit a bit awkwardly.

"What are your plans after graduation, Miss Horton? Have you ever considered a career as a Healer?"

"Oh yes – in fact, it's my absolute _dream_ to become a Healer," she told him eagerly.

"Well, I came here tonight to find you because, based on your stellar marks and your clear aptitude in Potions, I was hoping you'd consider interviewing for the Healer Trainee position in my Ward."

Rosemary could hardly breathe and was rather amazed at the entire proposition. She didn't know his blood status and had always assumed him a pureblood because of his impressive magical talents, but his invitation to her called that into question. Very few pureblood women had ever entered into the Healing field, after all.

"The interview will be a panel including myself and a few of my colleagues and we'll be interviewing one or two other students from Hogwarts as well as a young man from Beauxbatons," he continued. "But if your N.E.W.T. scores match your previous marks, I'd say you have a pretty good shot at the position…So, what do you say?"

Rosemary stared at him for a moment, still in a state of relative speechlessness, but finally said, "Yes – _yes_. I'd be _honored _to apply."

"Excellent." McHughes smiled and then checked his watch. "I'm sorry to cut our conversation short, but I must be getting back to St. Mungo's – I'm on nights all week and there are a few patients I still need to attend to this evening. I'll send you an owl in a couple of weeks to schedule the interview, if you're still interested. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Horton."

_Right. Like she _wouldn't_ still be interested in a couple of weeks..._

"It was a pleasure to meet you too," she said in a daze as McHughes gave her one last smile with a slight nod, and headed for the door.

Rosemary felt electrified after the encounter and yearned to tell Tom about it – after all, who else would care? Certainly not her father. _Maybe_ Warren? She felt a sting of disappointment when she realized she would have to wait. But this news was simply too good not to share. She was still flushed with excitement as she wound her way through the room to find her temporary fiancé.

* * *

The Knights' plan would be set into motion any minute now and Tom felt a jumble of nervous excitement. If they could pull this off, it would mean that they were truly ready to take on Grindelwald. If they didn't, well…it would be time to think of a new course of action. In his typical, unyielding arrogance, the thought that _he_ might be expelled never crossed his mind.

But then, of course, was the wild card of Rosemary. Even she wasn't _that _troubling, though. There was something within him, some feeling of reassuring certainty, which made him confident she was his.

Tom was fetching a cup of water at the drinks table following his conversation with Davor when the inevitable encounter with Rosemary's father occurred.

"Evening, Riddle." Tom was sure that the genial quality of his voice surely had something to do with his daughter's recent engagement.

"Horton," he replied shortly.

He looked at Tom for a moment before his mouth split into a smile. "Things always have a way of falling into place the way they're supposed to. No hard feelings, I hope…" Rosemary's father clapped him on the shoulder and then turned to refill his glass.

Tom smirked to himself, so very tempted to reveal Rosemary's true intentions to her father. But he knew it wasn't the time or place to do so.

"How about we put the past behind us?" Basil continued. "I don't hold anything against you, of course; it was nothing personal anyway."

_No, not at all._

"I've been doing a bit of thinking and perhaps we could even find a place for you at Comet."

Through all of this, Tom was silent and experienced an odd mixture of indignation and amusement. But when Rosemary's father finished, Tom turned and looked at him squarely in his gray-blue eyes. "Mr. Horton…Basil. May I call you Basil?

"Yes of course, my boy. So, what do you say?"

"Oh, I have _much_ to say, Basil. But first and foremost, I'd like to say…" Tom leaned in an inch, as if to tell him a secret and Rosemary's father looked at him expectantly. "Fuck off."

Tom smirked to himself again as he strode away, leaving an utterly appalled Basil Horton alone at the drinks table.

* * *

"You'll never guess who I ran into," Rosemary gushed when she found Warren.

"Who?" Her fiancé seemed more preoccupied with his plate of appetizers than her excitement.

"Blair McHughes. _The_ Blair McHughes."

Warren stared back at her blankly.

"He's the Healer-in-Charge of the Phinney Woolsledge Potion Poisonings Ward. He's absolutely brilliant. _And_ he's looking for a Trainee Healer. And – oh Merlin, you'll never believe it…he came here looking _specifically_ for me. He wants me to apply."

Warren did look somewhat impressed, but his excitement certainly didn't match what she would have anticipated from Tom. "Well that's quite the compliment…"

"It is, it really is. You have no idea…"

"It's too bad you'll have to disappoint him," he said while stuffing a coconut shrimp in his mouth.

"What do you mean?"

He looked at her in surprise. "You weren't actually thinking of taking the job, were you?"

"I _was_, actually." Rosemary could feel the heat rising to her face.

"But why? A Healer's schedule is _very_ demanding. You wouldn't like it. There's no need for you to work anyway with my position at Comet."

Rosemary was appalled at how much he sounded like her father. But then she just smiled internally. If anything served as proof that she had made the right decision, it was this.

_Tom _would have understood what an honor it was.

She found herself sliding her glistening engagement ring off her finger. She would have to take her chances with her parents and trust Tom; she simply couldn't force herself to pretend any longer.

He stared at her blankly as she placed the ring in his palm. "I can't do this. I'm so sorry, Warren."

Rosemary had never seen a face fall so quickly. "What are you talking about?"

She sighed. "Warren…you and I…we're just not right for each other. Even if you don't want to admit it, you know it's true too."

"But I _don't _think that," he said incredulously. "I _don't _think that's true."

"I'm really sorry…I'll speak to my father to make sure this doesn't affect your position at Comet…alright?"

"Do you think that's all I care about? A _job_?" his voice raised slightly.

"Warren," Rosemary looked around nervously, realizing that he had already begun attracting stares.

It was the first time she had seen him genuinely angry. "And what is that even supposed to mean: '_we're just not right for each other'_?"

"Let's go outside and talk," she said calmly and reached out to place a hand on his arm.

"No. We're through talking...After _everything_ I did for you, Rosemary…But I get it. Fucking hell, I really do…" He grasped her hand suddenly and tore it off his sleeve, throwing it back at her.

"_Warren_," she hissed, glancing around the room to see nearly every pair of eyes on them, including her father, who appeared to be positively irate; she was sure to receive an earful later. Not far from him was Tom, in the process of reaching for his wand. Even in her embarrassment and panic, she felt her heart flutter at his protectiveness.

"Because this isn't about _us_ is it? It's about you and –" Warren's voice rose even further and she braced herself for what was sure to come. She was glad that McHughes had left and wasn't there to witness the show.

But instead, he was interrupted by a chilling scream from somewhere distant in the castle.

She would have breathed a sigh of relief if she wasn't absolutely terrified at the prospect of what the source of the scream might have been.

Was this what Tom had been talking about? She searched his face for answers and it was unreadable as always, but it didn't matter. Her gut told her that it _had_ to be something related to the plan he and the Knights had come up with.

Some of the staff immediately rushed out of the Great Hall to discover what had happened, including Tom. She knew it was her duty as Head Girl to follow them to investigate, just as Tom had, but she didn't want to. She didn't want to know whatever awful thing they had done.

* * *

**Thanks so much to thereader, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, Oksanallex, TigerInTheMoonlight, x2leoj, Blerb, RosiePosie15, ecl123, marly4077, Lady Ravanna, gr8rockstarrox, MissVolturiKingsfan, and five guest users for your reviews! :D I've replied to most of you, but I'll try and respond to the rest later today. **

**Now let's all take a second and pop a virtual bottle of champagne to celebrate that Rosemary and Warren are _over_!**

**As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts, predictions, etc. Any first impressions of the two new characters introduced this chapter? How about the prospect of Tom working at MAGI and Rosemary at St. Mungo's?! **


	78. Part II - The Roommate

The Roommate

_April 6, 1945_

Five students: two sixth-years, two fourth-years, and one first-year. Three boys, two girls.

All dead. And all of them muggle-born, of course.

She stood in the Infirmary with just under half of the Hogwarts staff, where the bodies had been brought temporarily until the Examiner from St. Mungo's arrived in the morning to determine each student's cause of death. It occurred to her that this was something Dippet and several of her professors were probably qualified for, but that they were far too dismayed to bring themselves to actually do such a thing. Rosemary didn't blame them; the Knights clearly hadn't executed them with something as simple as the Killing Curse, judging from the bloodied, slightly mangled state of most of the bodies.

The rest of the staff were scattered throughout the castle and attempting to contain the chaos, but those gathered in the Infirmary merely stood in a long, poignant silence. She snuck glances to her left at Tom every now and then and was disturbed – though not entirely surprised – to see that his face was just as cold and expressionless as she had anticipated.

Rosemary could understand a little bullying of mudbloods…but _killing _them? Tom was a killer – at least indirectly – and this was just beginning to sink in.

Headmaster Dippet finally said somberly: "We must notify the parents. And the Ministry…"

Rosemary hadn't felt the urge to cry when they discovered the bodies, mostly because she was still in the process of overcoming her initial shock, but it was this simple statement that brought tears to her eyes. What parents deserved to endure the death of a child, even if they _were_ muggles?

A feeling of disgust and horror curdled in her stomach and she glanced at Tom again. This time, he caught her looking and gazed back at her with an expression that could only be described as pure egotism.

He was a monster. A monster she just so happened to have fallen in love with, but a monster nonetheless – she knew that now. The irony, of course, was not lost on her…The irony that she wanted to be a Healer and the one she loved was a killer. They truly were quite the pair.

"Miss Horton, why don't you check in on Ravenclaw and Gryffindor and Mr. Riddle can visit Slytherin and Hufflepuff?" Dippet requested in that same somber tone. "After you're finished, please report to Professor Dumbledore's office."

Rosemary nodded, quite relieved she and Tom hadn't gotten sent to all the houses together.

She visited Gryffindor first, knocking on each dormitory door to see how its occupants were coping with the news. Most of the Gryffindors seemed stable but disconsolate, which was rather unsurprising considering the fact that three of the five killed were from their house. It took Rosemary a far longer amount of time to comfort the small group of Gryffindor third-year girls that had discovered one of the bodies.

As she left and made her way to Ravenclaw, she wondered briefly how Hufflepuff and Slytherin were coping. Hufflepuff would surely be in a worse state than Gryffindor, which always tried to put on a brave face in tragedy. Slytherin, on the other hand, was probably throwing a party to celebrate.

Rosemary arrived at Ravenclaw and started in on the boys' dormitories first, choosing to skip over Warren's door in order to avoid a rekindling of their confrontation earlier that evening. Her next knock was answered by Brocklehurst, the scrawny boy that happened to be a Knights member.

She looked at him in the eyes, an easy feat considering he stood only about half an inch taller than her. And though she had expected him to avert his gaze in his typically, painful shyness, he didn't. He had changed – _Tom_ had changed him. In that moment, it hit her that he had to be one of the Knights that had killed a student directly.

"How can I help you, Miss Horton?" Brocklehurst asked politely, though his voice shook a little as he did.

"I'm just checking in to make sure you're all doing alright," she said smoothly while giving Brocklehurst a subtle, criticizing look.

"We are." His voice sounded stronger, but his eyes widened slightly in response and it became obvious quite quickly that he knew that she knew of his involvement.

Rosemary looked past him into the dormitory and gave a slight nod to the two boys that were sitting on their beds reading, probably in an attempt to distract themselves from it all. Then she shifted her gaze back to Brocklehurst. "Well do try and get some sleep. The Ministry investigation will begin tomorrow morning and I'm sure they'll get to the bottom of whoever was behind this." She watched him swallow nervously before moving on to the next dormitory.

After a short while, everyone in Ravenclaw was accounted for except for Faye. She sighed as she left the common room, rather dreading the visit to Slytherin that this surely meant.

But thankfully, she ended up running into Faye on the way.

"Hi love," the blonde greeted her as if nothing of particular note had happened that evening. "Congrats on your singleness – however short-lived it may be." She winked.

She was amazed and slightly horrified by Faye's nonchalance. "Really, _that's _what you're thinking about?" Rosemary hissed, glancing around them in the corridor to ensure they were alone and weren't being overheard.

Faye shrugged in response and Rosemary gave her an incredulous look. "You know just as well as I do that Markus and Adam were a part of this too!"

"I was fairly shocked at first," she admitted finally. "But Adam explained it all to me and it makes perfect sense. They're only mudbloods, after all."

"Mudbloods yes, but they were also _people_. They were someone's children…"

Faye shook her head. "You can't think like that. That's the whole reason the Knights did it…"

"What in the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Adam told me that Tom's been preparing the Knights to take on Grindelwald. This was a test. He wants to know that he can trust them…and that they'll do the things they have to in order to win. And clearly, this was a test for you as well, judging from what he said to you. He wants to know he can trust _you_ with anything too. In fact, he probably wants you to join them…"

Rosemary could only stare at her in disbelief, quite sure that this was the most fucked up thing she'd ever heard in her life.

'_That settles it,' _she thought,_ 'he's absolutely mental.'_

"How did he expect me to be okay with this?" she whispered, mostly to herself.

"I don't know," Faye's face softened. "He should have told you about it first."

"Yes, he really fucking should have," Rosemary said angrily. "And he should know that I'm not just going to sit around idly and follow his every command like everyone else. If that's what he wants from me, he's not going to get it."

"Clearly you two need to talk this through." Rosemary was silent in response and Faye gave her a look of concern. "Please promise me you will? He needs you, Rose – you'll keep him balanced."

Rosemary wondered if this was true – if Tom _actually_ needed her, or anyone for that matter. If he did, it didn't make sense to her that he would risk everything between them for this stunt. But then she remembered the pompous glance he had sent her in the Infirmary, as if he were so sure that everything had gone his way – including her. There hadn't really been a doubt in his mind that she would come back to him when all was said and done.

The worst part was that she knew, even in her state of intense inner conflict, that he was right: she _would_ go back to him despite the part of her that was screaming to never speak to him again. She knew he was right, because any sense of morality she would gain by leaving him would never make up for his loss.

Rosemary felt a bit hopeless for a moment and then she felt herself growing hot in anger. She loathed him in that moment for putting her in this position, for cornering her this way. He had bullied her into accepting his plans instead of speaking to her about them. Like he would have if he saw her as an equal. And _that_, more than anything else, was what truly bothered her.

After all, she had already known he had a dark streak – it just so happened that he was a bit darker than she had originally thought.

If "a bit" meant several orders of magnitude, anyway.

Faye had also made a point that had never been so clear to her before: he needed her. She could balance him and pull him back from the edge if she had to. Maybe someday, she could even change him for the better.

But until then, could she stand by him? Through everything he had done and would surely do? Could she forgive him for doing all of this without telling her?

"I have to go," she told Faye, with her mind a blur.

Though thankfully, she was able to quiet her thoughts long enough for her conversation with Professor Dumbledore, which had settled remarkably quickly on the subject of Tom:

"Miss Horton, you were in my office just last week expressing some…_concerns_ about Mr. Riddle…" Dumbledore began.

She had fully anticipated being asked about Tom and widened her eyes appropriately. "I mean, I think he's arrogant and can be a bit of an arse sometimes – pardon my tongue – but he's no killer, Sir. You don't _honestly_ suspect him, do you?"

"For the sake of thoroughness, we must investigate every potential explanation," Dumbledore told her softly. "We owe it to the parents, wouldn't you agree?"

He looked at her with those piercing blue eyes and for a moment, she worried her shield of Occlumency wasn't quite strong enough and that he would see everything she knew. "Of course, Professor," she answered.

After a pause that made her shift uncomfortable in her seat, Dumbledore said finally, "Thank you, Miss Horton, you may go. I spoke to your father briefly before we escorted the job fair representatives from Hogwarts. He wished to see you, but thought it best to leave you to your Head Girl duties. Instead, he asked that I pass along the message that he'll be writing you soon."

Rosemary sighed. _Splendid_. There was no question in her mind regarding the topic of his upcoming letter.

She left Dumbledore's office and came face to face with Tom in the corridor. He gazed at her with that same, slightly arrogant expression as before and she looked away – she wasn't quite ready to look him in the eye just yet. But she _had_ decided what she was going to do.

* * *

"Good evening, Tom," the aged wizard greeted him.

"Evening, Professor." He lowered himself into the chair that sat in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"The chaos that a few misguided students can create…It's remarkable," he began quietly. "Tragic, but remarkable."

Dumbledore gave him a long, piercing stare and Tom was thankful for the hours upon hours he had spent teaching himself Occlumency. It was so obvious that Dumbledore suspected him of everything, but without a shred of proof that would mean nothing.

Tom smiled internally, knowing that Rosemary had covered for him – _that _certainly meant something.

But he would play Dumbledore's little game anyway, if only for the sheer thrill of deceiving the old man yet again. Tom was so arrogant about it, in fact, that he decided to dance even closer to the edge:

"It's regrettable that the students ever had the opportunity to do such a thing. Please don't take this the wrong way, _Sir_," Tom said coolly, "but perhaps you aren't suitable in your role as head of security at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore smiled serenely, but Tom didn't buy his seemingly infallible composure for a moment – his allegation had gotten to the professor, and he knew it. Tom was even surer from the way Dumbledore responded:

"It's curious, isn't it," Dumbledore started. "That all of the students were muggle-born...And at least one from each house was murdered, except Slytherin."

"The anti-muggle born group must be at it again," Tom stated plainly, as if he were commenting on a turn in the weather.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Yes, _they_ must." He said '_they_' as though it just as easily could be replaced with _'you'_.

Then a long silence blanketed them and the tension between the two wizards became nearly palpable. Dumbledore stared at him and Tom stared right back, never once allowing himself to drop his eyes.

"You look as though there's something you'd like to say to me," Tom said crisply as he began to grow bored.

"I was just going to say the same about you." And then there was that pensive, penetrating stare yet again. But this time, it inflamed Tom's temper.

Why was it that, even when he was positive that his thoughts were sufficiently guarded by Occlumency, Dumbledore _always_ seemed to know? Why was he always one step ahead? Tom could fool everyone else entirely, but Dumbledore was always suspicious, always waiting for Tom to reveal his true colors yet again while never making it clear just how much he knew. And surely the professor wanted it this way, because it meant that he would always have the upper hand in some regard.

It infuriated Tom completely. So much so, in fact, that his lip began to curl and he snapped: "Do you know what, _Sir_? I've grown tired of your suspicious glances. If you have something to say, go right ahead," he spat. "In fact, I know exactly what you'd like to say. So go on – say it. Tell me you think that I, _Head Boy_, murdered five students. While you're at it, how about you explain to me how exactly I managed to be in _six_ places at once."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair as a flicker of a smile passed rapidly over his features. "I apologize, Tom, we seem to have misunderstood each other."

'_Bullshit.' _ He continued to smolder internally.

"While I have no doubt that you didn't kill those students, I think you might have some idea who did," Dumbledore stated plainly.

Tom shrugged and sneered back, "I don't. If I did, I would have reported it already."

"Of course."

With that, he knew that Dumbledore was back to pretending – they both were. Oh, how he wished he could call out the old fool on his potential involvement with Grindelwald and MAGI in that very moment.

Until then, Tom supposed he would have to settle for these small victories.

* * *

Rosemary arrived back at her dormitory and immediately retrieved her trusty bottle of gin from her trunk. Her hands were shaking slightly as she brought the bottle to her lips and took a long drink. It had been a long night and it was only going to get longer.

With renewed resolve, she threw open her trunk and pulled out each of her dresser drawers. She grabbed armful after armful of fabric, stuffing her clothes into the trunk. Then went her jewelry box, hair brush, perfume, all of her shoes, and her books.

When she was satisfied that she had packed up the majority of her possessions, she grabbed her wand from where it sat on top of her desk, levitated her trunk so it followed behind her, and made her way across the corridor into Tom's dormitory.

Rosemary set down her trunk at the foot of his bed and got to work once more, raiding _his_ dresser drawers and closet. At the end of his bed, she began a pile including a carefully folded pair of trousers, a clean shirt, and a pair of underwear. She topped the pile of clothes with a pair of black socks and next to the bed she placed a pair of his shoes.

With that, she took a seat on the bed and waited.

* * *

Tom strode through the empty corridors with his hands in his pockets, humming in arrogant satisfaction. Everything had gone perfectly and the only question that remained now was Rosemary.

She would need time to digest everything, surely. And though he was impatient for her return to him, he knew he would have to be careful not to rush her. Watching her put an end to her engagement earlier that evening was enough to make him patient for a while.

Or perhaps he had made the foolish mistake of underestimating her. He felt his mouth curve into a smile when he opened the door to his dormitory and saw Rosemary sitting on his bed.

She had come back to him, now for the final time; now she was his – _only_ his.

And nothing would ever come between them again.

But he knew immediately that something was off from the cold, deliberate way she was staring back at him. It was only then that he noticed what appeared to be a set of his clothes in a neat pile next to her on the bed and her trunk at the foot of it.

_What in the world…?_

He didn't have the first clue what to say to her. "You've come back," he managed, kicking himself mentally for stating the obvious.

"Yes, I have." She nodded and stood, smoothing her dress. Then she looked up into his eyes. "I'm with you now, Tom."

Despite the sudden burst of happiness upon hearing those words come out of her mouth, the tightness of her voice put him on edge. Thankfully, his infallible, confident persona rescued him and allowed him to hide his concern. "Well I'm glad," he said as he started toward her for the kiss he had so been looking forward to all week.

But then she held up her hand and gave him an icy glare, effectively stopping him in his tracks. "I should inform you that there are going to be some changes."

He raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms. "What sort of changes?"

"First off, this is no longer _your_ room – it's ours."

That certainly explained her trunk at the foot of the bed, he supposed, though this assertion certainly came as a surprise anyway. "I suppose I could get used to that," he smirked as his mind flickered through the new possibilities that this would introduce – falling asleep next to her, spending lazy Sunday mornings in bed together, watching her get dressed for class…and more.

"However," she began again in that same decisive, stubborn tone while picking up his shoes and the pile of his clothes, "_you_ aren't currently allowed in our room."

"I'm not _allowed_?" he asked her with an air of amused incredulity and put his hands in his pockets.

"No. You're not," she looked at him seriously and the smirk fell from his face. Rosemary strode to the door that led to the small sitting room attached to his dormitory which he rarely used, opened it, and pointed inside. "And this is where you'll be staying until I decide otherwise."

He stared at her, entirely dumbfounded. When he recovered himself somewhat, he crossed the room and moved to place his hands on her waist, but she swatted him away. "Come on, Rosemary…Don't you think this is rather…well, absurd? And unnecessary?"

"Oh, you think _this_ is absurd and unnecessary? How _dare_ you say that to me!" she hissed at him so coldly that he felt a chill run down his spine. "What's _absurd_ is expecting that I wouldn't have a goddamn problem with what you've done, when you didn't even respect me enough to talk to me beforehand! Not a single bloody _word_!"

Once again, Tom was rendered speechless. She did have a point…he _should _have spoken to her about his plan first. In fact, he had wanted to. He wanted to tell her about _all_ of his plans and to have her there at his side. And she would be, from then on. He just needed to know he could truly trust her first. But perhaps he could have found a simpler, less shockingly violent way…

He was just about to tell her all this and apologize when she added snappily, "I don't want to be just another of your followers, Tom. I want you to take my opinions into account and include me in the decisions you make…And until you prove to me that you can do that, you'll be sleeping here."

With that, she pushed him into the sitting room, threw the pile of clothes in after him, and slammed the door in his face.

He stared at the door in disbelief, feeling an odd mixture of shame and elation. Not even her fury toward him could ruin his delight that she had come back to him.

But Merlin, leave it to Rosemary to put him in his place – she truly was the only one who could manage the feat. And though it was a bit of a slap in the face, it was a rather welcome and well-deserved one. He wouldn't allow himself to make the same mistake again; she was his equal and he needed to take care and acknowledge that from then on.

"Lesson learned, I suppose," he muttered to himself as he settled in to his temporary suite.

* * *

"_Until we have seen someone's darkness we don't really know who they are. Until we have forgiven someone's darkness, we don't really know what love is." – Marianne Williamson_

* * *

**So first off, I'd like to give a _huge_ thank you to Oksanallex, who PM'd me with the idea to end the chapter and reunite Tom &amp; Rose this way. I originally had something completely different planned, but this was way better.**

**Of course, I owe a big thank you as well to my lovely reviewers: MissVolturiKingsfan, Oksanallex, x2leoj, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, Blerb, Khaaotic, RainbowKitteh13, Mrs. ThorinOakenshield, Lady Ravanna, fowlgirl19, ChthonicMelinoe, gr8rockstarrox, marly4077, RosiePosie15, klandgraf2007, Guest6, ecl123, shivaun18, bafflewithenigmas17, annchenluischen, and eight Guest reviewers.**

**I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!(: There's big, big things coming your way next chapter, so stay tuned my friends!**

**So. I also have a very exciting announcement!**

**My dear friend and fellow HP fanfiction writer _Charlotte Blackwood_ and I have agreed to set up a promotion system for _The __Dark Lord's Rose _and two of her stories, _Craving Comfort _and _Unknowns_. If you like long stories, _Craving Comfort_ is a fantastic, super long Severus/OC that begins in the marauder's era and will span all the way through the book era. _Unknowns_ is a Sirius/OC mystery-thriller set in the first war with lots of AU elements. I definitely recommend both of these stories if you're looking for more HP fics! **

**Anyway, we've devised this sort of loyalty-based system. Essentially what will happen is that you get a "stamp" on your virtual stamp card every time you review any of these three stories. Sort of like at a froyo place, but better...(jk, nothing can beat froyo). Twenty stamps = a spoiler for the story of your choice, _plus_ an entry into our quarterly prize drawings (which will take place on the solstices). The quarterly prizes are bigger things like characters being named after you, coupons for free access to original works, or a one-shot written to you by either of us! Full details to come at the time of the drawing itself. Sounds so official, I know.**

**Need more incentives? We'll be doing special events...like this week, if you review all three stories before Friday, April 15th at 11:59 pm PST, you'll get FOUR stamps instead of three! Catch-up reviews count too.(:**

**Drop Charlotte or I a PM if you have any questions! Thank you so much for your readership and dedication to our stories. :D**


	79. Part II - Most Wanted

Most Wanted

_April 6, 1945_

Tom hadn't been in the sitting room for more than ten minutes when the self-loathing began to set in. He hated being put in his place – even when he was wrong, even when it was Rosemary that was doing it.

Tom began to pace around the small room, quickly growing restless. He could understand her being upset, he really could. But not talking about it wasn't going to fix anything – wasn't _not talking_ the entire reason she was upset in the first place?

He sighed. Although this wasn't exactly what he had in mind when he thought they were getting back together – _at all –_ surely he could suffer the blow to his ego if it meant having her back for good. It was worth it…right?

_Bloody hell, listen to yourself…Don't you have a shred of self-respect? _

Clearly, love had made him weak – too weak.

And anyway, it seemed a bit hypocritical that she was blaming _him_ for not seeing her as an equal when she was the one who had shut him out of his _own_ dormitory like a bad dog. How _dare_ she?

A few more seconds of this passed and he simply couldn't take it any longer. He strode to the door and gave it a gentle knock. "Rosemary," he purred in the smoothest voice he could muster given his irritation. "You've made your point."

"Go to bed, Tom." She sounded particularly exhausted.

But he wasn't going to give up that easily, of course. He tried the doorknob and his lip curled up into a smirk when he realized it was locked – as if she thought that would _actually_ stop him. He'd play along, though, if only to appease her. "Open the door," he coaxed her. "Let's talk this over."

"I don't want to talk," she replied resolutely, though her voice sounded much closer this time.

"Isn't the failure to communicate what got us here?" He simply couldn't help the irritation that dripped from his words.

"Well it's certainly what got _you_ here. Or there, as it were."

Tom gritted his teeth. "Don't make me _force_ my way in there, Rosemary - you know I will. Remember earlier this year?" Then he smirked, thinking back to the time that he had nearly destroyed her door just because she wouldn't let him in.

"Have at it." Then she tapped something twice against the door. Something that seemed light, and also made of wood –

He reached for his wand in the pocket of his cloak where he always kept it and froze, growing immediately hot in rage. "Rosemary – what the _fuck_?"

"Sorry Tom, but I figured you would do this. I lifted it from you when we were arguing. But you'd be pleased to know that I've taken your advice and have improved my door-locking charms markedly," she sneered.

"You little…You have _some nerve_," he seethed. Even considering his natural aptitude for wandless magic, Tom felt a bit naked without his prized yew wand. She said nothing in response and he could hear her walking away from the door. "Rosemary!" he shouted after her angrily.

Tom sighed in exasperation and knelt down in front of the lock. He had yet to use wandless magic to break an advanced locking charm, but he supposed there was a first time for everything. He sat there for about an hour muttering every possible incantation he could think of, all the while reeling in complete disbelief of what she had done.

He didn't know what he was going to do when he finally got in there. Even though it was Rosemary and she was upset, surely he couldn't just sit back and allow her to get away with such behavior.

But whatever it was that he planned to do, he would have to figure it out quickly. He smirked in satisfaction as the lock clicked open.

Tom let himself into his (which was apparently now _their_) pitch black bedroom. _"Accio _wand," he whispered.

Though his anger subsided considerably as he was reunited with his wand, he still felt compelled to repay Rosemary for her little stunt. But the part of him with irreparable softness toward her took over as he stood above her sleeping form. It was in this moment that he realized he couldn't bring himself to do anything that would jeopardize her return to him.

"Just leave," he heard her say into the pillow. Apparently she wasn't asleep after all.

Tom couldn't help but laugh as he lit a fire in the fireplace to bring some light into the bedroom. "You come here, declare yourself my new dormmate, and you want _me_ to leave? Merlin Rosemary, listen to yourself…"

She sat up abruptly and glared at him. "Have it your way – _I'll_ leave, then."

Tom smirked and sat down next to her on the bed before telling her quite matter-of-factly, "No...You will not leave, because you don't actually want to." Her glare intensified as he continued in a silky voice, "You're here for one reason: you want this – us. You want _me_."

Her face grew soft first, but then immensely sad. "I know. I just…I don't know how to get over this."

"I should have said something…But I needed to be absolutely certain that I could trust you." He brought her fingertips to his lips and kissed them. Tom was rather impressed with how easy this was to say given his typical abhorrence for admitting that he was in the wrong. Then again, Rosemary drove him to do all sorts of things that took him by surprise.

"You can _always_ trust me," she said and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.

In his relief at the softness of her voice, he was tempted to jump on her right then and there and begin an overdue session of snogging, but somehow managed to restrain himself. If he knew what was about to come next, however, he wouldn't have hesitated for a second.

"But for the record," she started again, "I've thought about it and I don't agree with you, Tom. I think that what you did was awful."

His stomach dropped upon hearing these words come out of her mouth. This was his worst fear: that she wouldn't end up accepting what he had done. Perhaps she _wasn't_ the girl he thought he loved…had he been that wrong about her?

"I want to hate you for it. I truly do…And I should..." she continued.

In his head, he was screaming at her to stop. At this rate, she was going to ruin things between them all over again…

"But they were mudbloods!" he protested incredulously, hoping that she might see the blatant error in her thoughts. "You loathe mudbloods just as much as I do."

"It's _murder_, Tom. Are you completely mental?"

She sounded genuinely concerned. Ah, so _that_ was it – she was worried about him getting caught!

"There's no reason to be concerned. The Knights wouldn't dare cross me," he assured her smugly.

But apparently he was mistaken judging by her appalled look. "They were kids, Tom. You're not even a little remorseful?!"

Any more of this and he would most certainly be ill. "No," he said coldly. What point was there in lying? Clearly she didn't accept him as he was anyway.

'_I want to hate you for it. I truly do.'_

Tom suddenly understood exactly how she was feeling; he wanted to hate her for disapproving of what he had done just as much as she wanted to hate him for doing it in the first place.

But he couldn't – and neither could she. It didn't matter how in the wrong either of them were (and Tom was positively _certain _that it was her) because what they had transcended all of this; the two of them, together, was just too _right_. It was pointless to deny such inevitability.

Besides, if anyone could corrupt her in this regard, Tom knew it would be him.

Rosemary stared at him for a long time until a few tears fell down her face and she finally moved to swipe them away. When she was finished, she didn't look into his eyes again. Instead, she pulled the bedding over herself and laid down with her back to him. "I need some time, Tom," she began finally. "I'm yours, but…This – all of this…it's just a lot to take in." He heard her take a long sigh before repeating, "I need some time."

Tom joined her under the covers, sidled up against her, and inhaled the scent of her hair in hopes that it would drown out his profound feeling of disappointment. "I know," he told her, while attempting to hide the disgust in his voice.

* * *

Rosemary had done her best to avoid him all weekend, making sure that she was awake before he was in the morning and asleep when he came in for the evening. But there would be little avoiding him now: it was Monday morning and the Ministry investigation of the murders was slated to begin that afternoon. As Head Boy and Head Girl they would be expected to assist however possible, which inevitably meant that she and Tom would be spending the week together.

Of course, she knew that Tom was also irritated with her for her failure to understand. Rosemary had no idea how to move past what had happened, but she desperately wanted things to be normal between them…whatever 'normal' was for Tom and Rose.

Besides, maybe she _had _overreacted. After all, Faye hadn't seemed particularly concerned with what happened. Nor had Adam or Markus. Clearly, Tom had changed them – changed _all _of them. It was really quite amazing. If he could influence that many people, there had to be _something _behind his words. Maybe she just hadn't listened carefully enough…maybe if he explained…

_Explained what? It's still murder. _

That was the mental roadblock she couldn't seem to move past.

At least one good thing had come from all this: classes would be cancelled all week, giving her more time to study for her upcoming Defense Against the Dark Arts exam – as ironic as the timing may be.

After a lengthy stint in the library that allowed her to temporarily ignore her thoughts of Tom, she made her way upstairs to Headmaster Dippet's office where the Ministry officials would soon gather. Tom, always the prompt one of the pair, was already there when she arrived, as were the Heads of Houses and, surprisingly, the Minister for Magic himself.

Normally, she would have taken the Minister's presence as move of public relations to convince the parents that the Ministry was highly devoted to the investigation. But while there had certainly been an outcry of concern after the murders, most of the parents that did so had been Muggles. Given their lack of connection to the wizarding world and therefore _The Daily Prophet_, it wasn't as though they would even receive news of Minister Spencer-Moon's presence anyway.

It made her wonder if there was something else – something bigger, if that was even imaginable – going on. The exhausted look in Dippet's eyes as he spoke in hushed tones to the Spencer-Moon seemed even more telling.

"Good morning, Rosemary," Professor Slughorn greeted her. "Would you like tea? Maybe a biscuit? Help yourself to anything on the spread."

She briefly glanced at the table of refreshments and wished she was hungry; she hadn't eaten all weekend and the revival of her appetite seemed to be nowhere in sight. Perhaps Tom was aware of this, because a flicker of concern appeared in his dark eyes when she slid into the open chair next to him.

"The others should be along shortly," Professor Dumbledore said. "Ah, speaking of…"

The door to Dippet's office opened and a few more men filed into the room, most of them sporting Ministry badges. However, Rosemary's eyes widened in surprise to see Healer McHughes among them as well. What did he have to do with the investigation? He gave a nod in her direction and she returned it while Tom gazed curiously between the two of them.

"Right, well let's get on with it, I suppose," Minister Spencer-Moon said after the newcomers settled. "As I have already informed Armando and Albus, the investigation of the five students will be postponed until further notice."

Of all the shocked expressions that appeared throughout the room, Professor Flannigan's was the most profound. "But Sir, the _parents_…surely we owe them a thorough investigation at the very least."

"They will get one," Dippet nodded. "But something has come up that we must attend to first."

It appeared as though Professor Viesey was about to join in with support for Flannigan's insistence when Spencer-Moon said, "Pennifold - your report from this morning, please."

It wasn't until she heard his name that Rosemary recognized him as the Head of the Auror Office.

"Yes, Sir." Pennifold stood. "An informant of Grindelwald's regime came forward this morning with potentially devastating news. Before I go on, I feel obligated to say that it is absolutely essential that this be kept quiet until we can fully assess the situation." After a few hesitant nods, Pennifold continued, "A few weeks ago, we received word that Grindelwald and his followers were plotting a Ministry takeover through non-violent means – most notably through the development of some type of curse or other method that would essentially accomplish the effect of a mass Imperius Curse."

A chill ran down Rosemary's spine. Grindelwald seemed unstoppable.

"From the information we received this morning, it is now believed that this method involves the utilization of an increasingly prevalent illicit substance – a temporary brain altering potion – known commonly as ECB."

The simple act of breathing suddenly seemed exponentially more difficult and Rosemary briefly wondered if she would faint. She felt Tom's careful gaze on her. Despite the fact that they weren't on the best terms, his presence was comforting – even more so when he discreetly moved to intertwine his fingers with hers.

"As we've regrettably seen in our students, the drug is extremely addictive. It was reported this morning that Grindelwald developed a complex enchantment that would seize the minds of anyone with ECB in their system. Unfortunately, based on preliminary data from Healer McHughes team at St. Mungo's, just one dose can remain in the body for as long as a month. And overall, the usage statistics are staggering. According to some estimates, as many as half of the wizarding population of Britain may have tried ECB in the last month."

Her panic went into overdrive at this point and it was all she could do to keep her face unreadable.

"His plan is invariably tied to Hogwarts – ECB use began here before anywhere else. It is now believed that it was being tested on students to establish a stable version with few side effects, in order to encourage widespread adoption and use."

This was her fault – all her fault. The downfall of the wizarding world order was going to be _her fault. _

"The Ministry investigation of the students' murders must be postponed – the Ministry will need as much manpower as possible to eliminate this threat. There are too many lives at stake if this is truly Grindelwald's plan."

_Well, at least Tom would be pleased with this news._

"We have identified a former student as one of the main distributors of ECB – Jasper Donohue. Unfortunately, Jasper Donohue has been reported missing for the last twenty-four hours. There is a chance that this means Grindelwald already knows about the whistleblower and is now helping to hide Donohue."

_Did Faye know about any of this?_

She worried that she would be ill and in an attempt to distract herself, she focused all of her attention on the feeling of Tom's thumb stroking her wrist.

"However, as far as we know now, we currently have an advantage over Grindelwald. If we work quickly and quietly, we may manage to circumvent his plan of attack. The Auror Office has devised several strategies to do so. The majority of this is known only to a select group of Aurors, but there are two components the Ministry would truly appreciate your cooperation with."

"Of course," Dippet nodded. "You have the full support of Hogwarts in this matter."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Pennifold continued. "First off, we have agreed to allocate a small task force of Ministry officials to Hogwarts in order to identify, thoroughly question, and quite possibly convict all of the ECB distributors within the school. Your assistance in questioning would be most appreciated."

Dippet and the Heads of Houses nodded and muttered their support.

"Secondly – Blair, if you could describe your part in this…"

Healer McHughes stood and cleared his throat. "This morning I organized a team at St. Mungo's to develop an antidote to ECB that, when the timing is right, will be distributed free of charge and without punishment throughout Britain. Professor Slughorn…Miss Horton…we were hoping that you would be willing to come to London for the week and work with us, given your knowledge of the drug."

Rosemary almost laughed out of sheer disbelief. In any other circumstance, this opportunity would have been a dream come true. But this was a nightmare.

"Of course, Healer McHughes," Slughorn said instantly. "Rosemary?"

She nodded, as she didn't trust herself to say anything.

"It's settled, then. Miss Horton, you'll leave for London with Professor Slughorn tomorrow morning," Dippet nodded. "And Mr. Riddle can assist us with the inquiry here."

"I'm sure you all have hundreds of questions," Pennifold began again while glancing down at his watch. "Armando and Albus should be able to answer the majority - but we really must be getting back to the Ministry."

The meeting adjourned and the Minister for Magic, along with the various Ministry officials, began to trickle out of Dippet's office. McHughes gave her a wave and a small smile in his departure and Rosemary just barely managed to smile weakly back. Rosemary stood from the table and let go of Tom's hand in the process, but regretted it immediately when she realized how comparatively secure she had felt with his touch.

It appeared that her Professors (with the exception of Dumbledore and Headmaster Dippet) were equally as shocked as she was, though she knew this was for a different reason entirely. "Bloody terrifying," Viesey was muttering under his breath as he left.

"Mr. Riddle, the Ministry official that will be leading the inquiry will be here at three this afternoon," Dippet said. "We'll be meeting in Albus' office at that time."

"Yes, Sir."

"Miss Horton, please prepare to leave for London in the morning. You and Professor Slughorn will travel together. In the meantime, please ensure that the Prefects are conducting their rounds properly."

"Yes, Sir," she echoed Tom.

As they left, she felt numb from her shock – so much so that she felt almost resigned to the fact that she would eventually be found out. It occurred to her that she had no idea where she was going at the moment…all she could do was follow Tom in an attempt to cling to that sense of security he had given her.

* * *

Tom watched her carefully as he closed the door to their dormitory behind them. She was terrifyingly pale and looked rather dazed. Out of instinct as well as a lack of anything to say, he put his arm around her and pulled her against him. She was shaking.

"Did you know about this?" he asked her calmly.

"That I was brewing the potion that would eventually lead to Grindelwald's takeover? No – that seems like something I would recall," she said dryly while glaring up at him.

He smirked despite himself; the fact that she hadn't lost her feistiness was a good sign. "I suppose that you'll be a bit more careful when selecting your next hobby, at least."

"Merlin, I'm so fucked," she ignored him and then shook her head with a sigh. "Perhaps I should turn myself in...When criminals do that, the Wizengamot usually gives them an easier sentence."

"Don't be ridiculous…You're not going to turn yourself in and you are _not_ a criminal." Tom rolled his eyes and then let out a short laugh. "_Jasper Donohue_, on the other hand…"

"I don't know…" she shook her head and looked up at him. "I don't think he would drag me into this if he knew Grindelwald was involved…"

"Well I never trusted him." That wasn't entirely true. In fact, Tom didn't have much of an opinion at all of Faye's older brother until that morning. But he _did_ love sounding as though he had been right all along.

"But how could he possibly brew _that_ much? I was only sending him my modifications. The number of batches that it would take to supply half of Britain's population…there's no way he has the equipment to do that. He had to be working with someone else."

It was then that it all clicked in his mind. "MAGI," Tom breathed.

She gave him a curious look.

"That's how it is all connected, Rosemary….MAGI." He felt compelled to explain following her concerned gaze that followed, as if she worried he had gone completely mad. "Think about it – they mass produce dozens of potions already. Clearly they have the resources to do the same with ECB."

"That still doesn't prove anything."

It didn't, he knew that. But there was a powerful feeling of intuition within him that told him he was right. Or was that just his arrogance?

A few seconds of silence passed between them before Rosemary sighed. "What am I going to do, Tom?"

In his mind, there had only ever been one solution. "We are going to find Jasper before the Ministry does. We're going to see how much he knows and whether or not he has spoken to anyone about your involvement. And by 'we', I mean 'I'. I'll leave tonight - at midnight," he told her without hesitation.

"What are you talking about? I'm going with you!"

"No."

"Tom, this is _my_ mess," she argued stubbornly. "I have to get _myself_ out of it."

"No," he repeated. "You will be staying here."

_Here, where you are safe. _

"Why not?" Rosemary asked hotly as she placed a hand on her hip. "Do you think that I'm incapable of holding my own?"

"Of course you can," Tom scoffed automatically.

"Then what is the problem?"

"I-"

_This is too dangerous. If something happened to you, I would never forgive myself…_

She glared at him expectantly and he sighed. He knew, given her profound stubbornness, she would follow him anyway. He was also quite confident that he _could _protect her if things really came down to it.

And perhaps this was just what they needed to normalize things between them again.

"Fine," he told her. "_We'll _leave at midnight."

* * *

"_I remembered a definition of chivalry I'd heard once: a man protecting a woman against every man but himself." ― James Anderson_

* * *

**Hi all! Thanks so much to all of you that have read, favorited, and followed this story! ****And thank you to those of you that left reviews on the last chapter: Blerb, TigerInTheMoonlight, RosiePosie15, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, MissVolturiKingsfan, gr8rockstarrox, ecl123, x2leoj, marly4077, Lady Ravanna, MissingTriforce, Oksanallex, Bleahyyyy, CharlotteBlackwood, and two guest users!**

**I hope you're all ready for some Tom and Rose badassery! :D **


	80. Part II - Self-Preservation

Self-Preservation

_April 9, 1945_

"Well hello Juliet…Have you and Romeo made up?" Faye sounded chipper – too chipper.

It was obvious that she already knew about Jasper and Rosemary couldn't even pretend to entertain her. "Faye, I just heard…I'm so sorry."

Her face fell for a fraction of a second, but she recovered herself quickly. "I'm not sure what you're referring to."

Ah, the denial stage. Rosemary couldn't exactly blame her; Jasper's actions would surely taint the Donohue name, at least temporarily.

"Let me know when you want to talk," Rosemary said softly.

"He's not guilty," she said just when Rose reached the door that led from Faye's dormitory to the Ravenclaw common room. "Grindelwald forced him into it. I know it. Jasper wouldn't do this…"

She realized very quickly that she had no idea what to say. Should she tell Faye about her involvement and release that guilty knot in her stomach? Or should she allow her façade of ignorance to continue and simply play the part of the supporting friend?

"Let's go for a walk," she suggested. At least it would buy her some time to decide.

Faye reluctantly agreed and they made their way outside to the grounds, strolling along the Black Lake like they had done for hundreds of times over their years at Hogwarts. She told herself to confess her secret to Faye, but every time she opened her mouth to do so, her heart started pounding uncomfortably and it felt as though a rope was tightening around her throat.

Façade of ignorance it is.

"Where do you think he's run off to?" Rosemary asked finally, trying to sound as concerned as possible.

Enter feelings of guilt. Again. Because the purpose of this conversation was not only to comfort Faye; it was to prepare for her and Tom's mission that evening and glean as much information regarding Jasper's whereabouts as possible.

Faye shook her head. "I'm not sure…My parents haven't even seen him for weeks. They asked him again and again to visit and he kept saying he was too busy with work. The Ministry dropped by last night and demanded to search the house for him. It's madness, absolute madness…I guarantee they'll be here to question me soon."

"You're probably right," Rosemary admitted. "The Ministry met with us this morning…they're postponing the investigation of the students. That's how I found out about it."

Faye smiled wryly. "I'm sure Riddle's happy about that."

"I'm sure." Suddenly she felt sick to her stomach. She had been doing her best to keep it off her mind and focus on her own crisis. "Maybe Jasper traveled back to Australia or South America," Rosemary said in an attempt to steer the conversation back into a useful direction.

She shook her head. "I have this feeling that he's close so that he can keep an eye on the situation. Maybe he's staying with some of his old friends in Amsterdam – remember Accius Pepperidge and Millicent Lejeune? They moved right after they graduated…Jasper visited a lot. He always loved it there."

It wasn't much, but it was definitely a start. Rosemary was contemplating whether or not to press things further when Faye suddenly barked across the lawn, "_You_!" Rosemary followed her gaze to see Adam and Markus walking toward them. "You fucking prick!"

"What in the hell is she on about?" Markus looked at Rosemary, and then Adam.

"Don't play stupid!" Faye hissed angrily. "I bet it was _you_ who turned in my brother to get the spotlight off yourself! Well don't you worry, I'm going to make sure everyone at the Ministry knows that you were involved just as much as Jasper was –"

Markus' mouth fell open and he began to pale slightly. "What?"

"They know – the Ministry knows about Jasper and ECB…and how he's been helping Grindelwald," Rosemary explained.

It seemed to take Markus a moment to fully process that bit of news and Rosemary held her breath, terrified that he might drag her into the situation as well. "Fucking hell Faye, calm down. I didn't know he was working with Grindelwald!"

"You're so full of it Avery – fucking coward."

Markus just stood there, gazing at her in disbelief.

"Faye," Adam went to her and put his arm around her. "Calm down, Love. You heard him…he didn't know."

"And you're going to believe him," Faye snapped her fingers. "Just like that?!"

"You've been friends for _years_. Do you really think he'd do this to you? To your family?"

"If you plan on siding with him, I have nothing to say to _either _of you." She crossed her arms and turned away toward the lake.

"I'm not siding –" When Faye gave him the finger and Adam's eyes narrowed to slits. "Fine, have it your way then," he snarled.

'Thank you,' Rosemary mouthed to Markus as he and Adam turned to leave.

* * *

Tom was proud of Rosemary for manipulating Jasper's possible location out of Faye. It proved that even her friendship with Faye wouldn't get in the way of doing what was best for herself, which was quite reassuring to him. He couldn't help but wonder how far her drive toward self-preservation could push her into darkness. Perhaps he could even use this quality in her at some point to guide her mind to be more in line with his views. It was a tempting thought, that much was certain; he filed it away inside his mind for further contemplation.

They made it out of Hogwarts easily with the use of the Vanishing Cabinet – by far Tom's best discovery of the year – and Apparated from the alley behind Borgin and Burkes to the streets of Amsterdam.

While Tom was busy helping the Ministry prepare for the investigation of ECB at Hogwarts, Rosemary had searched through several volumes of Alumni records in the library to locate the address of Pepperidge and Lejeune and had drawn a map to their house on the edge of the city.

He hoped Faye was right about his location, as they had a long night ahead of them already. But staying anywhere near Britain – particularly in the home of a couple of old friends – seemed incredibly foolish and if Tom was in this situation, his hiding place wouldn't be nearly this obvious. Then again, it wasn't as though Jasper Donohue struck him as particularly clever anyway.

They strode side by side down several zig-zagging streets, the heavy hoods of their black cloaks pulled over their heads to avoid any chance of being recognized. Despite his prior reservations, Tom was glad that he allowed her to come along. Her presence added another layer to the excited adrenaline growing within him; after all, this was precisely what he had always envisioned them becoming…partners in crime, so to speak.

But his feeling of contentment slowly began to erode away as an eerie feeling that they were being followed began to weigh more and more heavily on his mind the further they traveled. He suspected that Rosemary sensed the same from the way that she abruptly doubled their walking pace.

"It's there," she whispered as they rounded the next corner, nodding toward the last house on the row.

But they both hesitated when another cloaked figure stepped from the shadows of the alley half a block in front of them, blocking their path.

Tom moved to reach for his wand when Rosemary suddenly pushed him off of the sidewalk and into the street as a streak of bright blue light shot past them from behind. "Tom watch out!"

He automatically spun to face the assailant while drawing his wand and saw another two shadowy figures standing at the intersection he and Rosemary had just come from.

The duel between them ensued immediately and Tom began by primarily blocking the spells of the two wizards to gauge which of them was the better duelist. When it became abundantly clear that one of them was leagues better than the other, he began to shower them with offensive spells, focusing heavily on the one that seemed more experienced.

Meanwhile, Tom could also hear Rosemary and the third ambusher firing spells back and forth behind him. The confidence and determination in her voice with each spell she spoke her incantations made him proud of the progress she had made in both offensive and defensive magic. He only wished he wasn't so preoccupied at that moment in time and could have witnessed the duel in its entirety.

Soon, the better duelist of the two was lying on the ground unconscious, a pool of blood forming around him that glistened pleasantly in the moonlight.

"_Expelliarmus_," shouted Tom's remaining opponent.

Tom blocked it lazily and smirked. It was a feeble attempt at best. "Your form is atrocious. Allow me to demonstrate the _proper_ way to disarm – _Expelliarmus_."

He tried to block it, but failed, and began to run away as Tom pocketed his wand.

"_Stupefy._"

Tom snorted to himself as the man hit the ground.

_Pathetic._

He turned around to look for Rosemary just in time to watch in awe as she successfully struck her foe with a Blasting Curse square in the chest, knocking him back against a brick building. A smirk spread across his face as the man landed face down on the street with a satisfying thud.

"Do you think those were Grindelwald's men?" Rosemary asked as he caught up to her down the street. When he nodded, she added, "Well judging from that, I think Faye was right."

Tom was still reeling from the sight of Rosemary's duel, but managed to pull himself together when they reached the front door that corresponded to the number on her slip of parchment. "We're with the British Ministry of Magic," he said with a knock. "Please open the door…We're looking for Jasper Donohue."

They immediately heard a tired voice reply to them from the other side of the door, almost as if they had been standing there for hours, just waiting for someone to arrive. "The Ministry was here earlier this afternoon. They've already searched our home for him."

"Then I suppose you have nothing to hide."

"Of course we don't. But until you show your credentials, we are not allowing anyone else into our home this evening."

Rosemary and Tom looked at each other and then at the spyhole in the door.

"I thought not. Now I would highly advise you to leave before I inform the authorities."

Of course, it crossed Tom's mind that they could easily force their way into the home. He just wasn't sure how willing Rosemary was to do such a thing. But while Tom stared at her, wondering how best to proceed, Rosemary suddenly placed her ear against the door while gesturing for him to do the same. Somewhere in the house, a baby was crying. Tom gave her a curious look and she smirked back at him in the dark.

It took a moment for the thoughts that must have been running through her mind to click in his head, mostly because he hadn't expected her to take things in this direction. But to his pleasant surprise, she did.

"Hiding a fugitive can earn you 10 years in Azkaban, you know. Of course, _that_ only happens if you're lucky and don't cross the wrong people beforehand." Rosemary said with a surprisingly sinister twist in her voice that sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. "It would be a shame for your child not to know their parents because they were too foolish to know when to stand aside."

They were met with a few seconds of silence until the man he assumed to be Accius slowly opened the door. Tom couldn't explain how, but he and Rosemary were in a sort of perfect unity in that moment where they seemed to know exactly what was going to happen next. It was divine.

'_Petrificus Totalus,' _said Rosemary.

'_Imperio_,_' _said Tom at precisely the same time. And just like that, Accius was paralyzed on the sitting room floor and Millicent was leading them down the hall to Jasper's apparent hiding place.

* * *

"Fuck," Rosemary stated plainly as Millicent involuntarily showed them inside the secret room behind the laundry chute at the end of the hallway. "He's gone." She pointed up at the open window.

"Was he here when we arrived?" Tom spun around to Millicent and demanded.

She nodded in a rather disturbing, corpse-like manner. It was only the second time Rosemary had seen someone under the influence of the Imperius Curse, the first time being Warren on the night that she had ended things with Tom.

Tom swore to himself and began pacing around the room.

It was then that Rosemary remembered: "Wait a moment…he has to be close by still – he never passed his Apparition test."

He paused long enough to give her a disgusted look that said _'What kind of worthless scum can't pass his Apparition test?' _before hoisting himself through the open window and starting off down the street.

Rosemary followed him out the window just in time to see him sprint down a nearby alleyway and ran to catch up with him. By the time she reached the corner, Tom was one block away and she spotted Jasper one block further.

Chasing after them was rather exhilarating, but it was burdened by the constant urge to cough. She swore to herself she was going to stop smoking so goddamn much.

'_Incarcerous!' _Tom shouted as their pursuit continued. Because he was in a near-sprint, his form was a bit messy and his spell had suffered accordingly, but still managed to snag Jasper's ankle with the rope, causing him to trip. Rosemary watched as he cast the spell again, this time binding his legs and hands completely.

Tom stopped to catch his breath and Rose finally caught up to them. "Oh Rose, it's you! What a relief," Jasper said as he looked up at her.

Tom smirked. "I wouldn't be relieved if I were you. _Stupefy_."

It was rather disturbing to see just how natural all of this appeared for him. Rosemary, on the other hand, had yet to wrap her head around anything that had just happened; she hadn't even expected their plan to make it this far. But although she was slightly terrified to see Tom in this light, which was undoubtedly the same version of Tom that was capable of murdering five students, it was also inherently reassuring that he knew exactly what they should do.

"What now?" Rosemary looked up at him. He _did_ seem to be the expert, after all.

"I was thinking Raoul's, actually," Tom said without hesitation. "We have a bit of catching up to do."

* * *

"Ah, Rosemary and Tom – what a nice surprise. And who do we have here?" Raoul raised an eyebrow at Jasper, though the gesture was more amused than surprised.

"Jasper Donohue," Tom began in hushed tones, paranoid that Raoul's home was also being watched. "Have you heard –"

"Of course I've heard. And let me say, if I was a less self-assured man, I would be offended by your constant skepticism of my surveillance methods, Riddle."

Tom rolled his eyes and Raoul grinned widely. "Well, come in! Let's question the bastard!"

* * *

Rosemary's eyes followed Jasper as Raoul levitated his body upstairs and into his office. "I'll wait here while you question him," she told him suddenly. "I have _quite_ a few things to say to him, but getting the answers to your questions is more important."

The bitterness in her voice made him wonder if, between the two of them, Rosemary was the one Jasper should actually fear more in that moment.

Tom nodded and took her hand, leading her down the hall to Raoul's billiard room that housed a long bar from the turn of the century. "A glass of gin while you wait?"

"You don't think he'll mind?"

He smirked. It was so very Rosemary to worry about manners, even with everything else going on in that very moment. "No. And even if he did, it's not as though he would notice at the rate he drinks through all of this anyways."

She smiled as he poured some Hendricks into a tumbler for her.

"I will likely need to tell Beaumont about your involvement in all of this, Rosemary."

"I know," she sighed before downing half of her glass.

* * *

"She _what_?"

"Yes," Tom nodded. "It was her recipe. She didn't know about Grindelwald's plan, of course…but _he _on the other hand…"

"I'll be damned." Indeed, the news appeared to come as such a shock that Raoul was actually speechless for a few seconds. "Although, that certainly explains why you went through all the trouble to find this sorry bloke." Raoul looked pointedly in the direction of now-conscious Jasper. "He's fucking worthless."

It was true. While they were questioning him, it had become obvious rather quickly that Jasper knew next to nothing about Grindelwald's regime. Clearly, the only things Grindelwald had dared to trust him with were those that he absolutely needed to know about. And for good reason, Tom supposed; to his significant disappointment, he didn't even need to threaten use of the Cruciatus to get Jasper to start talking.

They did find out two useful bits, however. For one, as they had already suspected, Jasper was merely the middle-man in the much larger ECB scheme. He wasn't able to identify the person (or, as Tom and Raoul suspected, organization) responsible for the mass brewing of ECB, but was able to acknowledge that there indeed was one. And second, to Tom's significant relief, Jasper hadn't spoken about the involvement of Rosemary to anyone – a claim that Tom confirmed with a quick bout of Legilimency. Still, the conversation as a whole was exceptionally unsatisfying.

"Do you know who the informant was?" Tom asked Raoul as they ventured back downstairs.

"Which informant? Clearly Grindelwald's side has one in the Ministry as well. His entire ranks knew almost immediately that their plan had been botched." Raoul sighed. "And of course, that also means that MAGI has destroyed any evidence of their potential involvement already."

Back to square one again.

"What do you plan to do with him?" Raoul asked while leading him into the sitting room.

"The only thing there _is_ to do with him," Tom answered casually, half-expecting Beaumont to be horrified at the suggestion.

Instead he replied, "I thought you might say that." Tom was rather relieved and actually somewhat impressed that Raoul hadn't tried to argue. Then again, Raoul had plenty of secrets and Tom supposed it wouldn't have been _that_ surprising to find out that he too had killed someone at one point or another.

"Keep it simple, will you?" Beaumont told him while lighting a cigarette, settling down in his armchair, and flipping open the _Prophet_ to the investing section. "That's my favorite room in the house and I don't want blood on the fucking carpet."

* * *

Rosemary had just finished her second glass of gin when Tom came to fetch her. "Will you come with me?" she asked him.

"Of course."

If she wasn't furious enough at Jasper already, what he said the moment she walked into Raoul's office with Tom certainly pushed her over the edge: "Oh thank Merlin – have you convinced them to come to their senses and let me go, Rose?"

She stared at him in disbelief before marching straight over to him and slapping him as hard as she could across the face.

It took him just as long to recover from the shock of being slapped as it did for her to recover from the shock of slapping him. "What was _that_ for?"

"What do you _think_ it's for?!" she spat.

"Bloody hell – I'm sorry."

"You're _sorry_?" she snapped. "That's all you have to say?! I can't believe you dragged me into this mess!"

"You say that like I wanted to. I didn't have a choice!"

"Of course you did," she rolled her eyes.

"Read the letter in the left pocket of my cloak and tell me I had a choice. Grindelwald threatened to kill my entire family – including Faye."

"That doesn't mean you had to involve _me_," Rosemary snapped again, well-aware that he was simply trying to appeal to her softness for Faye.

"You involved yourself, sweetheart," Jasper replied darkly. "They needed improvements to the potion that I couldn't make. I needed to bring _someone_ on board that knew what they were doing. It's not like _Markus_ would have been capable of that. "

"Regardless, it appears as though you should have been a bit wiser in who you chose to involve," Tom growled, causing her to jump slightly; she had forgotten he was there with them in the office. He strode over to her and slid a hand onto her lower back before muttering into her ear: "He's not worth your breath, dear. We should end this."

_We should end this._

A chill traveled like lightning down her spine. Rosemary knew it was coming and she knew it had to be done; after all, this inevitable ending had been the primary subject of her thoughts while Raoul and Tom were upstairs questioning him.

Could she live with herself? Maybe. Maybe not. But she needed to protect herself, not to mention Tom and Raoul now that they were involved as well…and this was the only way to accomplish that.

"You're right. He's _not_ worth my breath," she hissed while throwing a vicious glare in Jasper's direction. Then she turned her gaze to Tom, feeling just as empty inside as his near-black eyes looked, and whispered. "Do it."

"Hold on a minute…" Jasper's voice sounded panicky. "You're just planning to erase my memory…right? Because that's fine. _Completely_ fine."

"It's not good enough," Tom said coldly with a shake of his head. "Memories can be recovered. Especially memories that someone – like the Ministry, say – would purposefully want to recover."

Jasper looked between the two of them and smiled as though they were joking. "You can't be serious." A few seconds passed and his smile abruptly vanished. "Think of my sister, Rose. She'll never forgive you."

She closed her eyes and did her best _not_ to think of Faye. This was just self-protection; it was nothing personal. And she would make damn sure that Faye would never find out about it.

"_Please,_ Rose."

'_Shut up Jasper, just shut up,'_ she begged him mentally. It struck her in that moment just how thankful she was that Tom was with her to do the things she clearly wasn't strong enough for.

"_Avada Kedavra_."

She saw a flash of bright green through her eyelids. A few seconds passed and she knew it was over, but refused to open her eyes again in fear that she would see Jasper's dead ones staring right back at her.

"Rosemary." Tom placed a hand on her cheek. "It's over."

For a moment she felt a deep, immeasurable guilt, but the sensation rapidly faded to emptiness. As the reprieve of the emptiness took over, she was reminded that she had no reason to feel guilty, except for concealing it from Faye like she undoubtedly had to. After all, Jasper had brought this on himself.

With her eyes still closed, she wrapped her arms around Tom's neck and pulled herself against him as tightly as she could, as though this simple motion would squeeze those last dreadful traces of guilt right out of her. "Thank you," she whispered.

* * *

"You're not sleeping," Tom noted plainly as they lay side by side in his bed a little over an hour later.

She glanced over at him in the dark. "No…I'm not." How could she, after everything that had happened that night?

"Well you should be. Tomorrow is your first day on the job, after all…"

"Right." Rosemary had all but completely forgotten that she would be leaving for London the following morning. At least that meant keeping her distance from Faye for a while.

Tom propped himself up and ran a hand through her hair. "I wouldn't be surprised if they asked you to join the staff permanently after seeing you work. Healer-in-Training Horton has quite a ring to it, don't you think?"

She smiled, despite the feelings of immense conflict in her mind. "Actually, Healer McHughes came to meet me at the job fair last week," she told him. "He wants me to interview for a position in his ward at St. Mungo's."

"That's excellent, Rosemary," he praised her without a hint of hesitation.

How could someone be so perfect for her and yet also so wrong for her at the same time? He was the only one that had ever truly supported her and for that she was eternally grateful. But did that mean that she would be expected to truly support _him_ in all of his decisions – even the most violent ones? Could she actually trust that, like that night, he would do those things because he actually _had_ to and not just because he wanted to for some twisted reason?

She didn't really have an answer, so instead she searched his face for it. And then she searched his lips with hers. He pulled her on top of him, kissing her hungrily, and Rosemary could feel him hardening already when she straddled him. She supposed she couldn't exactly blame him; it had been a week since they last fucked and for them, that was ages. He tore off her nightie and began groping her exposed body, occasionally running a long finger delicately between her legs. Normally this would have driven her mad with desire, but she wasn't really in the mood for foreplay that evening. All she wanted was to be as physically close to him as possible.

Tom seemed to understand that this was what she wanted and sat himself up against the headboard before pulling her in for another passionate kiss and placing his hands on her hips. He let out a short groan as he guided her down over his cock. From then until the moment he finished in her, the sex was a perfect blur of pleasure and intimacy – so very different from the way they had fucked for weeks…So very different from the way they had _ever_ fucked. It was obvious that they were now more connected than ever.

It was in the near-delirium of the aftermath, when Rosemary collapsed beside him and watched him drift off to sleep with a peaceful expression on his handsome face, that the simple truth of everything they were dawned on her:

She knew she loved him too much for her own good. She knew that no matter what seemingly unthinkable thing he did tomorrow or the next day, she would desperately try to wrap her head and heart around it in an attempt to understand. And there were only two ways that could possibly end: either she would break him, or he would break her.

* * *

_"__I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you. No mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed." – A. S. Byatt_

* * *

**Hey all! Hope you enjoyed the chapter and I apologize for the delayed update - I always get a bit nervous writing the fast-paced actiony bits and it ends up taking me _forever_.**

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	81. Part II - Normalcy

Normalcy

_April 10, 1945_

Tom awoke to the sound of a draining bathtub and he watched as Rosemary exited the lavatory a few moments later in a thin robe that clung to her body and began packing her things for London. He was constantly awed by her ability to be seductive without even trying.

He cleared his throat, hoping that she might indulge some of the fantasies that had suddenly taken over his mind. When she continued to go about her business, he tried once more to make his presence known: "Good morning."

"Good morning," she replied, sounding distant.

He frowned slightly. Everything had seemed perfect the night prior; in fact, she had handled things even more gracefully than he originally anticipated. So what was all of this about?

"Come here," he told her gently, as he pushed the covers off of him and sat on the edge of the bed.

She refused to even so much as glance in his direction as she replied crisply, "I am supposed to meet Slughorn soon."

Tom was baffled, a most uncomfortable feeling for him. He had been in such a pleasant mood that morning. Didn't she know she was spoiling it?

_Enough of this_.

"Come here." This time, it was not a gentle request; it was an order.

He was pleased when she obeyed and felt his lips curl into his smirk as he slid his hand up her thigh, just passed the hem of her bathrobe. "Weren't you going to kiss me goodbye?"

"Sorry." She leaned down and just barely pecked him on the lips before going about her business.

"Something is wrong," he stated.

"Clearly," he could have sworn he heard her mutter as she continued packing her things.

"You will not be leaving until you tell me precisely what all of this is about." The idea of her leaving for London for a week in such a bizarre mood made him feel surprisingly ill.

"_Rosemary,_" he said sharply when she ignored him.

Finally, she seemed to give in and looked up at him. "I'm just thinking through things…that's all."

He did _not _like the sound of that. "Such as?" he asked, even though he was quite sure he already knew the answer.

She sighed. "Well, it's still sinking in, but I do understand why you did what you did to Jasper…"

"What _I _did?" He interrupted, shaking his head as a small smirk appeared on his face. "I may have said the curse, but you were as much a part of it as I was. And rightly so – you needed to protect yourself, Rosemary."

She looked away from him and grew quiet for a while. "I suppose so," she answered finally. "But you weren't protecting me or yourself last week when you, er…"

Tom crossed the room to stand behind her, reaching around her to caress her delicate collarbone. "When I had the mudbloods killed?"

"Yes."

She really did seem to be stuck on this – certainly more so than he had expected. But while this reality was entirely discouraging for him before, it now bothered him little; Rosemary's acceptance of what they did to Jasper had renewed his faith in their second attempt at a relationship.

"That was different," he replied matter-of-factly. "I was protecting the integrity of Hogwarts and defending my ideals – ideals which, may I remind you, that you share as well. Unless I am mistaken, of course, but we both know that rarely happens."

He had expected a smile or at least a feisty retort, but instead she just sighed. "I do share your ideals and agree that mudbloods shouldn't be at Hogwarts…you are right about that. But _murder_, Tom? I just…don't understand. I can't –"

He turned her to face him, tucked her hair behind her ear, and said, "You will."

An emotion flashed through her bright blue eyes that he couldn't quite place – concern? Perhaps even fear?

He slid his hands down over her curves. "At least try, won't you Rosemary?" And then, in his most charming voice– the one that almost never failed to get him what he wanted over the years– he added, "For me?"

"Okay," she answered weakly after looking up at him just long enough for his confidence to begin to falter.

Tom kissed her forehead so she couldn't see him smirk.

Corrupt her, he would indeed.

* * *

Rosemary stared at the bucolic scenery from the window on the Hogwarts Express, though her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't seem to get her exchange with Tom that morning out of her head and her blood ran cold every time she remembered that simple phrase Tom had said to her:

"_You will."_

But what if she didn't want to? Indeed, there was a considerable part of her that didn't want to understand and simply banish the memory of what he had done to a dusty corner of her mind. Unfortunately, it appeared that this wouldn't be enough for Tom.

"Merlin's beard, are you feeling alright Miss Horton?" asked Slughorn suddenly, looking at Rosemary in concern from the seat opposite hers.

"Yes, I'm fine, Sir. Thank you." Rose attempted to force a smile.

Slughorn didn't buy it. "You're not nervous, are you? If you are, you shouldn't be…Blair appears to be very interested in appointing you to the vacant position in his ward. You'll be taking him up on his offer for an interview, I trust?" Slughorn's eyes gleamed with excitement.

Well, she _hadn't_ been nervous, given that she had been so wrapped up in everything that had happened between her and Tom…but now she certainly was. It was absolutely essential that she impressed McHughes that week; if not, she could certainly bid adieu to her chance at the Healer-in-Training position.

"How do you know Healer McHughes?" she asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from her new-found anxiety. "Was he a student of yours?" Rosemary half-cursed herself then; asking about a prestigious prior student was rule number one of what _not_ to do while speaking with Professor Slughorn – even if the student happened to be one that she idolized.

"Sadly, no. Blair and I are only slightly acquainted through various potion conferences. He didn't attend a magical institution – his parents taught him from home, actually. They're absolutely brilliant at magic, but rather paranoid, you see. Although, given the recent events at Hogwarts, the idea of home-schooling sounds a bit less farfetched…" Slughorn shook his head. "Tragic."

The recent events – Rosemary knew _all about_ those. She let out a quiet sigh and turned her attention back to the peaceful landscape, hoping to Merlin that the days of potion-brewing solace ahead would aid in clearing her mind.

* * *

After Rosemary left, Tom reached over into his bedside table and retrieved the letter he had lifted from Jasper's cloak the night prior, just before they left Raoul's. He unfolded it and stared at it for a moment before breathlessly darting across the room to the desk drawer that held the singed corner of parchment that he had found in Dumbledore's office. Tom held the two side by side for comparison and a sinister grin crept slowly onto his face.

That one initial at the bottom of the page, with its distinct curl at the top, told him far more than the hour-long interrogation of Jasper had.

Of course, this also brought a couple of questions to mind as well. First, how was he possibly going to sit on this information, particularly given his face-to-face encounters with Dumbledore on a nearly daily basis? And, more importantly, how was he going to prove it? Obviously, a scrap of parchment and a letter that was supposedly from Grindelwald to Jasper Donohue would mean little to the Wizengamot.

But at the moment, these were mere details.

Even though it was just past nine in the morning and he rarely drank outside of what was deemed necessary for social convention, Tom poured himself half a glass of scotch in victory. He wasn't sure precisely how or when, but someday soon he was bound to prompt the fall of _both_ Dumbledore and Grindelwald.

* * *

"Miss Donohue, we will need you to tell us everything you know regarding your brother's involvement with the illicit substance commonly referred to as ECB as well as the dark wizard Grindelwald."

Donohue just sat there, staring at the Ministry investigation panel blankly.

The official with the pointy nose, whose name Tom hadn't bothered to remember narrowed his eyes at her slightly. "Miss Donohue, may I remind you that the more you cooperate, the better the situation will be for you and your family."

"I know nothing of any of that," she told them in a quiet voice that was _very_ uncharacteristic of her typical annoying, obnoxious tone.

"Do you have any idea where he is now?"

"No."

"Do you believe your parents might?"

Her voice raised slightly. "Of course not, which you _should_ know, considering the Ministry spent three hours searching their house for him the other day."

The younger of the two officials, who had done little of the questioning that morning, shifted uncomfortably in his chair and Tom hid a snigger in a cough.

"Do you truly expect us to believe you know absolutely _nothing_ of your brother's involvement in all of this? The drug has been getting into Hogwarts in one way or another, Miss Donohue."

"I've had enough." Faye abruptly stood from her chair and glared up at them. "If you want answers, speak to Markus Avery."

The Ministry workers exchanged glances. "Please escort her out, Mr. Riddle, and bring in Mr. Avery."

"When is Rosemary coming back?" Donohue asked him nonchalantly as soon as they exited the room.

"And why is it that you think_ I _would know?" Tom answered automatically, both because he was still in the habit of denying any involvement with Rosemary and because Donohue's near-constant attempts to pry into his private life annoyed him considerably.

"Rosemary tells me everything, Riddle," the blonde said smugly, adding to the base level of irritation he already felt when speaking with her.

"I can think of a few things she hasn't," he muttered.

It wasn't until he saw the wide grin spreading across her face when he realized, if taken out of context, that what he said could be assumed that he was referring to something _very_ different from the murder of her brother.

"I _thought _you seemed a bit livelier lately," she snickered.

He felt his face growing hot as he scrambled for a retort, but Faye had already skipped around the corner in the direction of Ravenclaw Tower. Tom balled his fists in frustration and set off to the dungeons to find Avery.

It turned out that he didn't have to look particularly hard to find the sorry wanker; the Slytherin common room was filled with green haze and in the middle of the pungent cloud sat Lestrange and Avery.

"Oi mate! Have you come to escape the Ministry fucks and have a smoke?" Lestrange held out the Gillyweed spliff in his direction.

_Unbelievable._

Tom ignored him and looked at Avery. "The Ministry officials would like to speak with you."

"Well…I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment." Avery leaned back on the couch and took another hit.

"Get up," Tom growled.

Even in his ridiculously intoxicated state, it was clear that Avery knew not to test his patience too much.

"For fuck's sake, Avery, are you so pathetic that you couldn't manage to sober up for even a day?" Tom sneered as they made their way out of the dungeons.

"What's the point, mate? You know they're going to send me to Azkaban for this."

It was true – they probably were.

They strode in silence the rest of the way, until Tom paused as they reached the classroom where the Ministry officials sat waiting. "Well if you breathe a word about Horton's involvement, I can assure you that going to Azkaban will be the least of your concerns," he hissed while sporting his most menacing glare.

"Why would I bring up Rose? She has nothing to do with this," Markus said coolly.

Apparently the git _had_ learned something from being a member of the Knights: when to keep his bloody mouth shut.

Avery's questioning went into a bit more depth than Faye's had, but not by much, which Tom thought was rather odd. It was only near the end when they really began to even try pushing him to give information:

"We have several witnesses that link you directly to the distribution of ECB. It's foolish to continue denying your involvement."

Avery just shrugged. "He said, she said…It doesn't _prove_ anything."

"Mr. Avery, we are far less interested in the fact that you dealt ECB than we are in the information you may have regarding Jasper Donohue. His sister certainly seems to think you know more than you're letting on."

"Oh, Faye's just upset. You know how girls can be." Then Avery made a show of sizing up his "interrogators" (if they could even be called that). "Then again, maybe you don't."

Tom smiled internally, wondering how hard Rosemary would slap Avery if she heard him say that.

The officials ignored him. "So your claim is that Jasper simply delivered the product to you and you sold it at Hogwarts. You didn't have _any_ questions for him regarding this arrangement?"

Avery smirked. "I was getting paid, so…no."

The older of the two investigators removed his glasses and massaged the spot on his forehead just between his eyes. "Alright, Mr. Avery, we believe you."

'_That's it?' _Tom was rather appalled. _'No Veritaserum? No Cruciatus Curse?'_

No wonder the Ministry was so inefficient.

"Unfortunately, your connection with Jasper Donohue and the ECB distribution to a huge proportion of Hogwarts students cannot go unpunished…Markus Avery, you are hereby expelled. Please surrender your wand."

* * *

The investigation seemed to conclude as quickly as it began; apparently, they were satisfied with Markus' expulsion. Two days later, the news of Grindelwald's plan to use ECB appeared in _The Prophet_, creating a predictable sense of pandemonium throughout wizarding Britain. The timing of it all as well as the pathetic attempt to question Avery made Tom wonder if the entire investigation at Hogwarts had simply been a move of public relations to give the impression that the Ministry had always been one step ahead of Grindelwald.

The timing of the Ministry informant had also been ideal; clearly, they knew that Grindelwald's plan wasn't quite ready. If it had been, after all, he would have set it into motion already – the development of the antidote had only been announced that morning, another day after Grindelwald's utilization of ECB was reported.

Tom was filled with pride when he saw Rosemary's name in the article, crediting her for her work on the antidote, and saved the clipping. He was also pleased that this meant she would soon return to Hogwarts, as Tom was entirely bored by the time their four days apart had passed. He wasn't used to having so much time off from classes and found that he was quickly beginning to loathe it. He had re-read his entire collection of books regarding dark magic, thought through at least a hundred different schemes to bring down Dumbledore and Grindelwald, and organized a Knights meeting with Dolohov for Saturday evening. After all, he supposed it was about time that they celebrated their recent success in ridding the school of five mudbloods – and getting away with it, too.

Tom was pacing around his room for nearly an hour as he waited for her return, and quickly dove across the room to his desk when he heard the doorknob turning in order to look busy.

When she entered, he glanced up and pretended to be surprised to see her. And for another reason, he _was_ surprised at what he saw; Rosemary looked entirely revitalized. There was a stark contrast between the stressed, overtired look in her eyes before she left and the brightness in them now. Apparently, a bit of distance from the situations involving the mudbloods and Jasper was all she needed to gain some perspective.

"How was St. Mungo's?" he asked, after she greeted him with a kiss.

"Oh Tom, it was amazing," Rosemary told him, while beginning to unpack her things. "You should have seen their cauldrons and brewing equipment – all state of the art, of course."

"I can only imagine." He truly would have enjoyed the chance to see it…

"And Healer McHughes…Merlin, he's just as brilliant as I imagined from reading his publications on potion theory. Did you know that he never actually received a formal education? His parents taught him from home. _Remarkable_, isn't it?"

A flare of jealousy shot through him at her clear admiration of the Healer, but he knew better than to fall down _that_ rabbit hole again. It was best to change the subject before he got a bit too fixated…

"Any mention of the interview? Or did he just hire you on the spot?"

"It is scheduled two weeks from tomorrow," she beamed. It was one of the first genuine smiles that she had given him in a while.

The sight was such a welcome one that he almost stopped himself from telling her what he did next: "This came for you while you were away."

Tom watched her carefully as he handed her the envelope, the contents of which he had been quite curious from the moment he recognized the Horton family crest in the wax seal.

She stared at it emotionlessly for a few moments before tossing it into the fireplace and lighting it aflame with her wand.

He grinned internally; this was most certainly the Rosemary he had fallen in love with.

* * *

"So…what else did I miss?" she asked him as she watched her father's parchment smolder.

"Avery was expelled," Tom replied nonchalantly, seeming a bit distracted for some reason.

"_What?_"

As soon as this came out of her mouth, she wondered why she was even remotely surprised. After all, Markus had been fairly open about the fact that he dealt ECB and had even bragged about it on a few occasions. Still, it was difficult to imagine Hogwarts _without _Markus there. "Did he already leave?"

Tom nodded. "On Monday afternoon."

Rosemary's stomach sank in disappointment; it would have been nice to at least tell him goodbye. But at the same time, Markus was far less concerning to her at that moment than her best friend, whose brother she had happened to kill. "How is Faye doing? Did she and Adam make up?"

Tom stared at her blankly.

"Never mind." Rose forgot sometimes that Tom paid exceptionally little attention to anything even remotely related to gossip. "Does she…know?"

"No. And there is no need for you to worry about that."

Despite the inner conflict that had persisted at the forefront of her mind all week in regard to what she had been a part of with Tom and Jasper, there was at least some comfort that came with knowing Tom was in control of the situation. She had done her best to ignore the dilemma and focus solely on her work, and it had indeed helped to some degree, but perhaps that wasn't the best way to move forward. Maybe she _would_ have to try and understand, like Tom had requested.

After all, Tom was just about the furthest example from a predictable, black and white person that she could possibly think of. He was not merely a cold-blooded murderer – he was her protector, lover, and closest friend as well. She was thankful for their week apart, as it allowed her to see this larger picture more clearly and brought a few things into perspective.

"I missed you, Tom," she told him softly while pulling herself close enough to his neck to smell his pleasant aftershave.

He tilted her face up and kissed her. From there, of course, it was off to the races.

His hands ran all over her while she reached down and stroked his member in the way she knew would drive him mad. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying it so much that he completely stopped his work on her body for a moment and let out a rare groan of pleasure. When he brought himself back to the present, he looked at her with playful revenge in his eyes.

With that, Tom inserted a finger in her, which caused her to gasp in both surprise and pleasure. He leaned his head back against the headboard and smirked up at her. "I do enjoy the sounds you make." He suddenly pushed her onto her back and spread her legs. "In fact, I think I'd like to hear more of them."

He kissed the inside of her thighs, allowing his teeth to graze her skin, and she closed her eyes. Why had she ever bothered to hope that Warren could make her feel this way?

But he had sparked playfulness in her as well and she wondered how far he could push her before she finally broke and allowed the feelings of pleasure to take over completely. If he kept doing what he was doing with his tongue, she assumed it wouldn't be long.

After a few minutes of this, he looked up at her and let out a short, amused laugh when he caught her doing everything she could not to make a sound. "Oh, you really want me to _earn_ it, don't you?" He smirked and tsked at her. "Such a fucking tease."

Rosemary loved that the only time he allowed his properness to fall by the wayside was when they were having sex; it was unspeakably attractive…Just about as unspeakably attractive as the moment when he suddenly flipped her around and positioned her on her hands and knees.

He ran a hand down her back and over her bum while telling her sensually, "Well I trust you know by now that I am not one to shy from a worthy challenge."

She was about to reply with a playful quip when he pressed himself into her fully without warning, forcing her to bite down on the corner of her pillow to avoid screaming out in pleasure.

"No?" She could hear the smirk in his smooth voice. "Perhaps faster, then."

And faster he went. Harder, too. He pulled her hair, forcing her to arch her neck. "Scream for me, Rosemary," he commanded her.

Her restraint disappeared with his assertion of dominance and out came a shameless moan of his name. Shortly after, she gave in to the release her body had craved all week and then felt him tense while another inevitable groan escaped his lips.

It had been shorter than their typical romp, but Rosemary didn't mind; clearly, they were both a bit overdue. And, when he collapsed beside her and pulled her body close to his, she realized the pleasure wasn't even the part she had been craving the most – more than anything, Rosemary just wanted to feel close to him again.

This was good. This was what they _needed_: a little slice of normalcy…A reminder of what they were and what they could perhaps become once more.

His lips brushed against the back of her neck as he said, "I have organized a Knights meeting for tomorrow evening and would like you to attend."

Or, perhaps not.

* * *

"_And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you." ― Friedrich Nietzsche_

* * *

**I know, another late update...it's that busy time of the quarter again! My apologies. However, I _will_ be updating again this weekend to make up for it and keep things on schedule!**

**On a quick side note - in between my midterms and finishing this chapter, I've been thinking about a possible side project for this summer/later this year and would love to hear your thoughts on it. Basically, it would be a prequel to TDLR and would give a glimpse of pre-Rosemary Tom through entries in his diary. I've thought about doing it a couple of different ways, the first being chronological and the other being chapters that skip around between years. Sooo what do you think? Is this something you'd like to read? Let me know via a PM or in your review!**

**Thanks so much to you all for reading/following/favoriting/reviewing! :D I promise you'll hear from me again soon with the next update!**


	82. Part II - Calculated Charisma

Calculated Charisma

_April 14, 1945_

Although she was rather nervous to attend her first Knights meeting, Rosemary was dreading the inevitable run-in with Faye even more. At least she could rest assured that they (well, mostly Tom) had tied up all of the loose ends in her association with Jasper.

So she had thought, anyway. But then she remembered there _was_ a loose end she had yet to take care of: Myrtle.

A loose end that did _not _seem happy to see her.

She was hovering above her toilet and pouting when she saw Rosemary enter the lavatory. "Well, look who it is…You forgot all about poor little Myrtle, didn't you?"

"No…of course not," Rosemary lied with a wave of her hand, as if the mere suggestion was ridiculous.

"Liar!" Myrtle suddenly screeched and swooped down toward Rose, stopping just inches in front of her face. "I knew _everyone_ would forget about me after all those other muggle-born students were killed. Since then, not a single person has come to make fun of the fact that I died…"

"That's a terrible thing to say," Rosemary said disapprovingly, but then wondered what right she had to talk given the person she was dating and the nature of the meeting she was attending that evening. "The reason nobody is visiting you anymore is because they're all terrified to step an inch out of line. And I haven't visited because I've been so busy trying to keep them there..."

"But you've been busy with _other_ things too. I saw the papers – the Grey Lady brings them to me sometimes. You working on the antidote is fairly ironic, don't you think? I was thrilled to hear that awful friend of yours, Markus Avery, was expelled."

Rosemary just stood there, afraid to say something too incriminating. But was it even possible for her to incriminate herself more at this point? She had already dug herself into a fairly deep hole.

"You know, I was thinking…If I turned you in, I might be rewarded. After all, you _are_ Head Girl and it would make quite the splash. They might even let me leave this awful bathroom and allow me to roam the castle…Then I could haunt Olive Hornby again." Myrtle's eyes gleamed with revenge and Rosemary's heart began to pound nervously. "I bet you're regretting that you forgot about me now."

"It's your word against mine, Myrtle," Rosemary rolled her eyes, attempting to sound unconcerned. "Headmaster Dippet would never believe you."

"Well there's only one way to find out."

Time for a new strategy.

"Would you really do that?" Rosemary did her best to look wounded. "Myrtle, I thought we were friends."

The ghost suddenly looked furious. "Do you really expect me to believe that someone like _you_ would ever want to be friends with someone like _me_?"

Rosemary stared at her in silence. If an appeal to friendship hadn't even worked with Myrtle, what _would_?

For a moment, she wished Tom was there to help – surely he would know what to do. But at the same time, did she really want to get in the habit of relying on him to solve all of her problems, especially given the means he might use to do so?

No. She could figure this out on her own.

Myrtle suddenly giggled rather maniacally and Rosemary realized the desperation must have shown on her face. "You haven't spoken to your boyfriend lately, have you?"

Rosemary shook her head. "Warren and I…"

"Not Warren. _Riddle._"

Her heart began pounding once more. What did _that_ mean?

"I'm just giving you a hard time, Rosemary. Of course we're friends. I'm not going to tell Dippet. Riddle made me promise…and in return…"

_What in return?! _She cursed him mentally for getting involved when he didn't have to. She could have handled this…right?

"He promised to bring me Hornby."

* * *

Rosemary was waiting for him at the landing near the Great Hall as he finished rounds. "You spoke to Myrtle."

Tom stared at her blankly as he tried to determine how she had taken it. "I did," he said as he began walking in the direction of the dungeons.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I have had quite a bit on my mind lately," he told her. "It must have slipped."

This much was true, actually. He had been so busy helping the Ministry with their inquiry and plotting his takedown of Grindelwald that he had almost entirely forgotten the plan he had crafted to deal with Myrtle while she Rosemary was away at St. Mungo's.

But 'forgetting' had been part of this plan in the first place anyway. With his newfound determination to corrupt Rosemary, he simply couldn't pass up the opportunity. Admittedly, it felt a bit underhanded to lie to her. But how wrong was it really if it brought them closer in the long run?

"You thought I would disapprove." She didn't sound angry, necessarily…just disappointed. And she certainly didn't seem to believe that he had forgotten to tell her, which wasn't entirely unexpected. Things didn't just 'slip' Tom's mind.

Tom shook his head. "I didn't want to give you something else to worry about."

"I can take care of myself, Tom," she replied indignantly. "It was _my _mess – I should find my own way out of it."

He smirked, proud of how well he clearly knew her; this was precisely how he had envisioned her reaction. "Well," he said smoothly. "You're more than welcome to fulfill my side of the bargain then."

At that, a hesitant look spread across her face.

"Unless, of course, you _do _want me to take care of it…."

"I think you've done more than enough for me," she said crisply. "I was just trying to think of the best way to bring Hornby to Myrtle…She would follow _you_ anywhere. But me on the other hand…"

Tom intertwined his fingers with hers as they stopped outside of the Slytherin common room. "The Imperius Curse should work nicely. I'd be more than happy to teach you the proper way to use it."

* * *

As expected, she received an abundance of glances, stares, and glares the moment that she stepped into the Slytherin common room at Tom's side, still hand-in-hand. Some of them were simply surprised and others were rudely aggressive, but _many_ were envious. Rosemary found herself smirking back at them, realizing how much she had missed the feeling of having something that all of the other girls wanted.

"Hi Tom," a chorus of them sang.

Of course, their sour looks toward Rosemary only intensified as he led her up the stairs without a word to any of them.

It was strange to see the complete disarray of Adam's side of the dormitory next to the emptiness of Markus'. She glanced over at Adam, wondering how he was taking the news of his best mate's expulsion – not very well, judging by the rather depressed look on his face. Then she wondered how he and Faye were getting along…

Did it make her an awful friend to hope that they _weren't _getting along so that Faye wouldn't be there after the Knights meeting and Rosemary could put off their encounter just a little longer?

The sudden realization that she had once again walked into a room full of stares distracted her sufficiently from this question.

"Why don't you take Malfoy's seat next to Dolohov, Miss Horton," Tom gestured to the front row.

Abraxas looked both distraught and rather flustered. "But Tom – I mean Rid – I mean Volde–"

_Voldewhat?_

Tom's eyes narrowed to slits. "Move," he hissed.

Abraxas did, not that he seemed particularly happy about it.

"Is everyone present?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dolohov nod. "Everyone is accounted for, Sir."

_Sir?_

"Excellent." Rosemary watched Tom unpin his Head Boy badge and slipped it into his pocket. It struck her as both amusing and considerably disturbing to see the care he took to ensure that the different versions of his life didn't overlap. "Then we shall begin."

* * *

As Tom launched into the meeting, he felt himself get swept up in the rush of the moment; it was almost surreal. In fact, he felt compelled to glance down frequently to check and make sure that Rosemary was still there at her rightful place in the front row amongst his inner circle, staring up at him with those sweet, innocent eyes.

Yes, things were _certainly _beginning to fall into place. About bloody damned time, too.

He paced in front of them in a show of his usual charisma with a spark of added energy because of his excitement in regard to Rosemary's presence. "As many of you know from the reports in _The Prophet_, Grindelwald's grand plan has been largely foiled. Of course, if the Ministry wasn't full of a bunch of idiotic, blubbering gits, this could have happened months ago. And it is because of this incompetency that one of our own, Markus Avery, was expelled. Do any of _you_ believe he had anything to do with Grindelwald's plans?"

He heard a resounding 'no' in response, the loudest of which came from the corner where Adam was seated.

"Of course not," Tom shook his head.

Normally, he wouldn't have thought to waste time talking about Avery, but Tom supposed it might win him a few points with Rosemary and strengthen the bond between the members that had been close to Avery at Hogwarts.

"While it is regrettably that Avery was expelled, Grindelwald is now at his weakest. And this presents us with the chance to act. So will you stand by each other to fight for what we know is the only right way for the wizarding world to be?" He looked around at them and was met by a few fervent cheers, before glancing down briefly at Rosemary. "Will you stand by _me_?"

Various forms of affirmation rippled across the room and Tom smirked, his eyes still locked with Rosemary's unreadable pair. "Well then I would advise that you brush up on the dueling skills I've taught you this week. We will begin our search for Grindelwald next weekend. But now, we celebrate our recent victor over the mudbloods of the school. After all, that is precisely what Avery would have wanted, isn't it?"

Tom felt odd and almost jumpy as he filed out of the dormitory with Rosemary at his side. Things had gone quite well, so where had this uncertain feeling come from?

'_Will you stand by _me_?'_

Oh right – he had no idea how she was going to react to everything she had just seen and heard. In a way, he both loathed and sort of admired his inability to predict Rosemary like he could everyone else. Sometimes it was easy, like his plan involving Myrtle. But then at times, like that night, he was forced to take a genuine chance on her – a reality that was most uncomfortable.

Perhaps she would need some time to digest it all.

'_Yes,'_ he thought, _'Ask what she thought about it later…now is too soon.'_

"Can I – er…Would you like something...gin perhaps? To drink, I mean – a beverage." He turned his gaze away from her face, appalled at himself. What was _wrong _with him all of a sudden – he couldn't even manage to get out a coherent sentence? "I'll bring you some gin," he muttered and strode away before she had the chance to respond.

* * *

Rose watched Tom curiously as he left her standing in the middle of the Slytherin common room. He was acting odd and she wasn't sure precisely why; perhaps he was just hesitant to give her too much of a special treatment in front of the Knights, as some of them didn't seem entirely thrilled of her presence to begin with.

But at the moment, she wasn't bothered with these concerns. Despite her apprehension in attending the meeting and the way her heart stopped when he suggested that they were going to pursue Grindelwald, she was actually quite glad that he invited her. Last summer, Rosemary had thought she had observed Tom in his true element at the Tournament, but it was so clear now that it hadn't be the case – _this_ was his true element. While she watched him speak, several things clicked for her and she realized how skilled Tom truly was at engaging them. His calculating mind knew just the right balance of natural charm and intelligence to express. This was his genius. It was a shame he had no interest in joining the Ministry after graduation – he would make an excellent politician.

Overall, the realization was slightly terrifying. Although, if she were being completely honest with herself, it was at least a little sexy too.

While she waited for him to return, Rosemary looked around the room for Faye. After all, she would have to face her at some point. Rose spotted her and was about to cross the room to join her and Adam on the lounge when she heard a voice just behind her shoulder:

"Well look who it is. It's funny, really. Everyone is always talking about how _clever_ you are…but I've been wondering how clever you really are if you have the nerve to show up here again."

Rosemary smirked and turned to face Olive Hornby. "I believe you're forgetting how things ended last time."

"Oh, with dumb luck you mean?"

"Perhaps you'd like a rematch if you're so certain it was dumb luck," Rose raised an eyebrow.

"Fine by me. Anytime, anywhere." The arrogance in Olive's voice made her blood boil.

"Myrtle's lavatory, perhaps?" The color from Olive's face suddenly drained and Rosemary continued, "Oh, I'm sorry…I forgot that you're afraid of ghosts. A little _mudblood_ ghost, no less."

Olive looked as though Rose had slapped her. "Slut," she muttered through clenched teeth.

It was just the push Rose needed to go over the edge.

"I'd watch your tone if I were you. Next thing you know, you'll find yourself waking up alone, face-to-face with Myrtle, with no one around to save you from whatever terror she's been dreaming up for you in the last few months. So go ahead – I _dare_ you to cross me or speak to me like that again."

Holy fuck. Tom _was_ rubbing off on her.

"Do you honestly think I'm afraid of _Myrtle_? She's so pathetic. Almost as pathetic as _you_."

"I thought you might say something along those lines." And honestly, Rosemary was glad she did; it certainly took care of any guilt she would face in handing Olive over to Myrtle.

"Has anybody alerted Dippet that there is a cow loose in Hogwarts?" Faye suddenly appeared at Rose's side and flung an arm around her neck. She could smell the alcohol on her friend's breath. "Oh – what a relief. It's just you, Hornby."

Olive rolled her eyes and sighed, ignoring Faye. "I mean really, Horton. Look at the two of you, trying to fit in with the Slytherins, just like you always have…But you and I both know you don't belong here. It's only a matter of time until Tom realizes the same."

Before either of them could respond, Hornby turned on her heel and sauntered away. Although she had felt rather conflicted about it earlier, now Rosemary simply couldn't wait to fulfill Tom's end of the bargain with Myrtle.

"Come sit with Adam and I," Faye said excitedly, as though she had already forgotten the encounter. Rosemary wondered what had gotten her so chipper, considering everything that had been going on with Jasper and how upset she had been over it earlier that week. But when she took a seat next to the couple on the lounge and felt the nearly palpable tension between them, she realized why Faye had called her over: to be the mediator.

"So, you're one of them now?" Faye asked her while lighting a cigarette. "Maybe Adam will let me ask Tom to join now."

"It was nice to see you there," Adam gave her a small smile, as though he hadn't heard Faye.

An uncomfortable silence fell between the three of them and Rosemary wondered where Tom could possibly be with her drink.

Just when Rosemary was about to crack and break the silence because she simply couldn't take it any longer, Adam suddenly sighed. "It's not the same without Markus."

"I'm so sorry your boyfriend went and got himself expelled," Faye quipped immediately with a roll of her eyes.

"It's _your_ fault that he got expelled!"

"Oh please, everyone knew he was dealing."

"And everyone knows you only snitched on him out of revenge, because you _think_ he knew more about what Jasper was doing. Why don't you believe him? Nobody believes that _you _knew anything about Jasper and Grindelwald."

"That's because I didn't. It seems as though this is all _very_ difficult for you to accept. Denial doesn't suit you, Adam."

"You're impossible," he growled and drained his glass of firewhiskey.

"Well when you finally come to your senses, do give a bit of thought to who will be replacing him in the wedding."

"What are you talking about? Of course he is still going to be in the wedding."

"Not if the wedding still involves marrying me," she snapped.

"Well _that_ certainly sounds like something I'll have to give some thought," Adam snapped back at her.

Then both Adam and Faye turned to Rosemary with helpless looks, as though they actually expected her to side with either of them. "Have either of you seen Tom?" she asked distantly, pretending she hadn't heard a word of their conversation. It was the only way she knew how to hide her guilt over the whole thing.

As if on cue, Tom emerged from the crowd in front of her with a full glass of gin in hand. "Thanks," she smiled up at him. Little did he know that she was thanking him for far more than the drink.

"Of course." He seemed to have regained some of the composure that he had lost earlier.

"We'll be back in a few minutes," she told Faye and Adam while grasping Tom's hand and pulling him to the other, far emptier side of the common room.

"You came just in time…They were having another spat," Rosemary sighed in relief.

"Hm," Tom hummed. He seemed rather distracted again; maybe she had been onto something earlier when she hypothesized that he was being distant to appease the Knights.

She placed a finger on his chin and turned his face toward hers. "I can leave if you're uncomfortable."

"No –" he said quickly, which brought an inescapable smile to her face, "I'm not…Are you?"

"No," she told him, rather surprised at herself that this was her honest answer. "Thank you for inviting me."

For a fraction of a second, Tom gave her a look that she couldn't quite place. Then he stood and muttered, "Brocklehurst and Mulciber wanted to discuss a matter from the meeting…I'll be back in a moment." Rosemary could have been mistaken, but it looked as though he was trying to hide a grin when he turned away from her.

It was the second time that night that things clicked for her.

The surprises of the night were far from over, she realized, as Dolohov handed her a refilled glass of gin and joined her.

"Does this mean you're joining the cause?"

Rosemary was slightly taken aback that he asked this so directly. "I'm not sure," she shrugged. "Maybe."

Rosemary found it rather amusing that Dolohov, who had sent several dirty looks in her direction over the last few months, was perfectly pleasant now that she had Tom were back together. At least Tom could be assured that he was loyal.

Dolohov laughed for at least ten seconds before realizing that she wasn't laughing with him. "Oh…you're serious?"

"Yes. I, er…I'm not sure it's right for me."

Well, it wasn't a lie…

He laughed again, though it was more of a brief chuckle this time. "But you heard Riddle – it _is_ right."

"I suppose you could say I'm not one for violence."

"Rubbish – I was there for your duel with Olive. _Everyone_ saw that."

"That's different."

Dolohov shrugged. "Come to a few more meetings and you'll get it. Riddle is talking about the things our parents have talked about since we were children. The things we all know are right…that mudbloods are unworthy of formal magical learning and that they shouldn't have the same jobs as purebloods or even half-bloods. But it's even more than that, because we're not just _talking _about things – we're doing them. Riddle's brave that way."

She glanced at Dolohov and saw him gazing up at Tom, his eyes looking a bit glazed over, and Rosemary felt oddly guilty all of a sudden, as though she were infringing on a private moment. The admiration for him was almost palpable.

"What I'm trying to say, Miss Horton, is that you're going to join him – us. And eventually, so will everyone else."

Rosemary leaned her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes, replaying her memories of the meeting in her head, and then opened her eyes to see Tom on the other side of the room, chatting with that same infallible charisma that had drawn people to him (whether he wanted it or not) for years. Suddenly, Dolohov's suggestion didn't seem all that ridiculous to her.

She saw him now – she _really _did. And as Rosemary felt her heart swoon at the sight of him, she realized that she was just as prone to his allure as everyone else.

* * *

"_If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him." – F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

**So Rosemary is pretty much swept up in everything 'Tom' this chapter. Do you think it will last, or is it just due to circumstance (all the chaos with Jasper, Myrtle, etc.)? Let me know what you think in a review below!**

**Thanks so much to all of you that have followed/favorited/reviewed (especially those that have reviewed)! :D**

**Oh, and I think I've definitely decided to take a closer look at putting together TDLR prequel I mentioned last chapter. However, I think I'll plan on writing it a bit sporadically so that I don't derail my update schedule for TDLR (as I clearly have a hard enough time keeping this story on track as it is... -_-). I'll let you know when to look out for the first chapter!**

**Anywhooo, have a great week and thank you for reading!**


	83. Part II - Sweet Vengeance: Take Two

Sweet Vengeance: Take Two

_April 16, 1945_

Rosemary was rather shocked at how quickly things had normalized between Tom and her in the days that followed the Knights meeting. In some respects, everything felt quite similar to the way it had in the beginning when they had first gotten together – well, as long as she didn't let her mind dwell on certain recent events for too long, anyway.

The same seemed to apply to her friendship with Faye; the more she pushed the guilt of what happened to Jasper to the back of her mind, the less she noticed it. And, although this habit was rather troubling at first, it eventually became a momentous relief – not to mention a near necessity to get through the day. Rosemary often found herself wondering what Tom did to manage the guilt of the things he had done…or if he even felt any guilt at all.

She hoped that he was simply good at hiding it.

And she supposed hiding it was more important now than ever for him. The Ministry had returned to Hogwarts on Monday to resume the investigation of the mudblood deaths, following the postponement that had occurred to handle the ECB fiasco. Despite this, it seemed as though things were looking up for Tom. In all the shock and pandemonium regarding Grindelwald and ECB once it was leaked to _The Prophet_, any parents that had been concerned with the murders were sufficiently distracted. Plus, as the muggle parents had no real way of contacting the school and demanding a thorough investigation, the Ministry could continue to drag their heels on it.

Although she would never dare to bring up any of this with him, Rosemary was sure that Tom was delighted by the way the situation had played out. Indeed, it seemed that he and his friends had literally gotten away with murder…and judging from the added confidence in his smirk and stride as of late, he felt unstoppable for it.

Was it twisted that she found this exaggeration of his usual demeanor oddly charming?

"Good afternoon, Miss Horton," he greeted her as he strode toward her in the empty corridor where they had agreed to switch off for rounds.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Riddle. Anything of note during your rounds?"

"Not particularly – a few points from Gryffindor here and there –"

Rosemary grinned; his bias in taking away House points from his least favorite house had become rather amusing.

" –and, no surprise, the Ministry is still bumbling around on the second floor." He rolled his eyes. "Anyway, after your rounds, I was hoping you might meet me in the study."

The study, also known as her former dormitory that they had transformed over the weekend, had become their new favorite spot. In order to create more space in his dormitory that they were now coexisting within, they moved his desk across the hall to join hers, combined their collection of books, and brought in a couch and set of chairs from the tiny sitting rooms that adjoined each of their dormitories. Rosemary loved it, as it was obviously far more private than their study room in the library, which allowed them to engage in _other_ activities whenever one of them felt like taking a break from their reading.

"There is something I would like to, erm, show you," Tom continued.

Rosemary blushed slightly and cracked a small, mischievous smile at what she interpreted as an innuendo. "This morning wasn't enough for you?"

He smirked and stepped closer to her, cornering her against the wall. "That isn't quite what I meant." She felt his fingers slide up the side of her thigh. "Though I am certainly not opposed to the suggestion."

"Tom," she scolded him with a laugh as she tried to push him away. "What if someone sees? What if my father finds out?"

"Let him," he said in a deep, sensual voice before leaning in once more to gently bite her lip.

Her instinct was to push him away again, but everyone in the school already seemed to know they were back together anyway; there were far too many turned heads and whispering when she strode past her fellow students in the hall to think otherwise. And Tom _did_ say he would handle things if her parents got in the way…whatever that was supposed to mean.

* * *

Tom stole another kiss from her in an attempt to satisfy the inexplicably strong craving he had felt all morning. This sensation was nothing new: the last few days had been filled with the same sort of urgency to see her (and, more frequently than not, have his hands on her) as much as he possibly could. It was a terrible distraction from all of the planning he still needed to do for the excursion with the Knights that weekend. But as much as he complained about it internally, Tom knew deep down that he rather liked it.

After Jasper and the Knights meeting, Tom was struck with the reality that he was falling for her all over again even faster than he had initially. He was so determined that they would be together that he almost laughed in her face for suggesting that her father might get in the way once more, especially now that they seemed to be on (or at least approaching) the same page and that Warren Cramer was out of the picture.

_Speaking of…_

"Well, isn't that sweet…A slag and a wanker. _Quite_ the pair." Tom turned from Rosemary to see Cramer approaching them, sporting red cheeks and bloodshot eyes. These were the same symptoms he had seen on many of his fellow Slytherins due to their incessant partying, particularly as of late. He supposed it wasn't that surprising, considering the fact that classes were cancelled for a second week in a row to accommodate the Ministry's buffoonery – what else was everyone supposed to do to pass the time?

"Watch your tongue, Cramer." Tom told him with a warning look, even though he had already crossed the line considerably by Tom's standards.

Warren ignored him and continued, snarling at Rosemary: "I was just thinking that maybe I should tell your father about how the two of you are out snogging openly around Hogwarts. Would you like that, Rosemary? Don't you think he deserves to know the truth: that his precious daughter is fucking around with this scum?" Warren tossed a glance in his direction and Tom was sure in that moment that he was either drunk or high – what fool would dare to say those things to him otherwise?

Tom clenched his hands into fists at his sides and willed himself to contain his temper. This situation was beginning to look far too close to the one a few months prior, which Tom certainly wouldn't mind seeing again…but he didn't want to throw away all of the progress he had made with Rosemary in the last few days, either. Yes – he should stand back and let Rose decide which course of action would be best to take.

"Warren, I know you're upset…and I'm sorry, but…" Rosemary stepped forward, as though to console him.

Oh fucking hell. No. He was _not _going to stand there and listen to that.

"No she isn't," he interrupted. She glared at him, but he continued anyway, "She is not sorry and has no reason to be. You see, I believe that you vastly misinterpreted the situation, Cramer. And perhaps you cannot be blamed for that...after all, not everyone can be gifted a mental capacity that measures up to the norm. I'm sure you believe that Miss Horton had a choice and that she chose me, and of course you're upset because that means giving her up. There is an absolutely crucial detail that you're missing, however…and that is the fact that there never really was a choice to begin with. She is _mine_ and always has been. She _used_ you because she knew you would be too fucking thick to see through it. Have I clarified things sufficiently for you?" Tom smirked at Cramer's slack-jawed expression.

After a moment, Warren seemed to recover and suddenly looked as though he were about to punch him. "You arrogant prick," he growled "walking around and pretending you're better than everyone –"

"Don't be a fool, Warren…you're not thinking clearly," he heard Rosemary say from behind him. At least she understood the direction in which things were inevitably headed.

"It's a pity, really…" Cramer continued as though he hadn't heard her, a choice which Tom was sure he would regret very soon. "It's so very _obvious_ that you're not a pureblood. Don't you get tired of trying so hard to be what you're not?"

"You're a fool, Cramer," Tom said while drawing his wand; he was fairly over this talking business. There was only one way to settle this now.

Warren drew his wand as well and Tom was pleased that Rosemary didn't try to stop either of them. Instead, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rosemary duck around the corner and poke her head out to avoid the crossfire that was soon to ensue.

"_Confringo!"_

"_Relashio!"_

"_Expulso!"_

"_Stupefy!"_

He wasn't a terrible duelist, but certainly not on par with the Knights or Tom himself. In fact, he was doing a reasonable job of keeping up until Tom delivered a Laceration Curse that slashed Cramer's wand-arm.

He expected Warren to give up at that point, but instead he clutched his arm to steady it and attempted to fire another curse in Tom's direction. It missed terribly.

"_Expulso!" _Tom cast again, this time hitting Warren square in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Cramer fell to the floor, groaned, and rolled on his side in a foolish attempt to stand once more. Tom wondered briefly about the best way to finish this and almost laughed despite himself – there was only one real answer:

"Cru-"

"Riddle," a familiar, elderly voice said sharply in the corridor behind him. "Enough."

* * *

"I understand that you felt the need to defend Miss Horton; when we spoke to her, she did report feeling threatened by Mr. Cramer," Dippet said slowly while peering at him over the rims of his glasses. "However, I find your lack of judgment in engaging in such violence uncharacteristic, Tom."

Tom found himself smirking internally. _If only he knew…_

"My sincerest apologies, Headmaster," he said smoothly. "I assure you that I will not allow it to happen again." Tom glanced at Dumbledore, who was standing to the right of Dippet and watching him intently. He had been shocked that the professor hadn't told Dippet about his clear intention to use the Cruciatus Curse – in fact, he half-expected him to try and use what he had seen (or almost seen) to get Tom expelled. Over the last few minutes, he had grappled with a few explanations as to why Dumbledore had left out that crucial little detail from his account of the event, but none of them seemed to add up.

"And as for Warren Cramer…"

"Sir, he has clearly been a bit off since Horton ended their engagement. In my opinion, he was being unreasonably antagonistic and defiant which calls for expulsion…According to Rule One Hundred and Forty-Seven of the Hogwarts school code –"

Dippet rubbed his temples. "The last thing we need while the Ministry is here would be an expulsion and Rule One Hundred and Forty-Seven is not sufficient justification regardless. Albus, please speak with Mr. Cramer this afternoon and instruct him to keep away from Miss Horton. Riddle, please refrain from doing anything that might attract unwanted attention from the Ministry."

_Does holding meetings with a secret, anti-mudblood organization and launching a search for Grindelwald's outpost count?_

"Of course, Sir," Tom answered reassuringly while flashing an ever-charming smile at both Dippet and Dumbledore.

* * *

Rosemary was pacing across the study waiting for Tom to return, and was going positively mad with the thoughts of what could be happening that very moment. She had said everything she could think of to protect him and paint the picture that he had merely defended her from the threat of Warren, but that didn't change the fact that Dumbledore had caught him just when he was about to deliver the Cruciatus.

So what happened now? She and Tom both knew that Dumbledore wasn't fond of him – would he actually take this as an opportunity to get him kicked out of Hogwarts? Her only consolation was that Dippet would probably want to keep all of this as quiet as possible while the Ministry investigators were still there; after all, Hogwarts had received more than enough negative press as of late.

She cursed Tom for allowing things to get out of hand – he was Head Boy, for Merlin's sake! He couldn't just go around casting Unforgivable Curses on anyone he didn't like. Wasn't he supposed to set an example?

Admittedly, Rosemary was rather touched by his defensiveness of her…But surely he didn't have to go to such extensive means to do so. Besides, at that point in their duel, it was already clear that Tom had won; the Cruciatus wouldn't have served a purpose beyond his own satisfaction. What else would have happened, she wondered if Dumbledore hadn't interrupted?

'_Breathe, Rosemary,'_ she told herself and lit her fourth cigarette since returning to their corner of the castle. So much for quitting…

Thankfully, just when she was on the verge of panicking all over again, Tom entered. "Is everything okay?" she asked nervously.

"Yes. Why wouldn't it be?" he answered in his typical, nonchalant way, as though there had never been a doubt in his mind that he could worm his way out of the situation.

There was little wonder as to why he had begun to go astray – for him, rules were practically nonexistent.

But did he honestly expect that they wouldn't speak at all about what happened? If so, he was about to be largely disappointed. Rosemary shot him a stern look from across the room. "You were a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"He deserved far worse for the way he was speaking to you," Tom muttered as he took a seat at his desk and took out his quill and some parchment. "If I had the chance, I would have –"

"You would have_ what_?" she narrowed her eyes at him. "Killed him?"

"Of course not," Tom replied coolly, after a moment of silence passed between them. "Then I would never have the opportunity to see him suffer again."

Rosemary shivered and took a drag from her cigarette. She supposed there was a chance that he was joking, but it seemed rather remote. Pretending wouldn't hurt though, would it?

Then again, Tom had a point. Warren certainly deserved to be put in his place after everything that he had said to both she and Tom.

And even if she didn't approve of what Tom said or did, things were finally reaching a point of stability for them – did she really want to make a fuss about this and throw them off balance again? Especially since his intentions had primarily been to defend her?

With what she knew about Tom now, it was clear that she would have to begin choosing her battles a bit more wisely if they were ever supposed to last.

"So," Rose began again, borrowing his nonchalant tone. "You wanted to show me something?"

* * *

Tom beckoned her over and she obeyed after flicking her cigarette bud out the open window. When Rosemary reached him, he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her on the back of her neck. He was relieved that Rosemary didn't proceed to try and argue about Cramer: it meant progress – and fairly substantial progress at that. It certainly wasn't lost on him that, just a few months ago, a relatively similar interaction between Cramer and himself and resulted in the initial split with Rosemary. But this time, they were settling in for the evening together just like any other ordinary night.

_Progress._

Tom kissed her again, this time just behind her left ear. "I was right the first time, wasn't I?" she began, "You don't _actually_ have anything to show me…" Behind the curtain of her hair, the corners of her mouth twitched as though she were trying to hide a smile.

"Still an intriguing suggestion and we _do_ have yet to break in our new study…" He smirked into her skin. "But yes, I do _actually_ have something to show you," he teased, mocking the know-it-all tone she had used.

With that, removed Jasper's letter and the singed parchment from Dumbledore's office from his upper desk drawer and placed them on the surface in front of her.

Being the intuitive Ravenclaw he adored, she required no explanation of what it was that she was supposed to be looking at. He watched as she gazed at the two side by side, her head resting on the palm of her hand. Finally, she sighed. "I don't know, Tom…"

He gave her a bitter look, having hoped that she would be as thrilled about it as he was.

She looked again at the two parchment bits. "I _know_ you want Dumbledore to be involved in all this, but don't you think this is a bit farfetched? I'm not saying it isn't true," she added when his scowl deepened. "It's just…I think you need better evidence to know for sure."

"Things aren't that simple, Rosemary. If he is involved, which I am _certain_ he is after looking at this, he isn't going to leave a goddamn breadcrumb trail that leads to Grindelwald!"

Rosemary sighed. "Did you tell Raoul?"

Tom nodded. "I wrote him last week." Of course, he wasn't going to tell her that Beaumont's reaction had been largely the same as hers. It was as though neither Raoul or Rosemary wanted what Tom saw so clearly to be true – ironic, considering that Raoul's suspicion of the professor was what got Tom involved in all the MAGI business in the first place.

Well, if they felt that way – fine; Tom supposed all this meant was that they would only look more foolish when he proved them wrong. And though he was rather disappointed in her reaction at first, he knew it wasn't really worth getting caught up in it. Especially not after their pleasant afternoon of putting her ex-fiancé in his place.

_Progress._

She leaned against his chest and looked up at him. "Can I ask you something Tom?"

"Of course."

"What did you mean at the Knights meeting when you said that you were planning to pursue Grindelwald?"

"Oh – that?" Tom curled a strand of her scarlet hair around his finger. "That's confidential…you can ask me _anything_ but that."

He stared at her blankly and her expression began to turn worried in a way that he found rather endearing. This must have shown on his face because she suddenly narrowed her eyes at him. "You're teasing me, aren't you?"

Tom smirked. "As I mentioned in the meeting, it is an opportune moment to launch an assault after everything that happened with ECB. The Knights are close to being ready – not quite, but close. By the time the term is over, I am confident they will all be prepared. In the meantime, it is important to gain as much information as possible about the regime by trailing his followers, finding one of the outposts – really anything that will help us destroy him."

Rosemary stared at him in silence for a moment. "Well, they certainly sorted you into the right house...Slytherins and their ambitions…"

"And Ravenclaws, on the other hand, are realists. So tell me, Ravenclaw, what do you find unrealistic about my plan?" He gazed at her in amusement.

She scoffed. "Besides the fact that there are about thirty of you and who knows how many of them?"

"The numbers in the papers are drastically overestimated – you know that."

"What about all the trained, experienced Aurors that went missing trying to do the exact thing that you're trying to do?"

He disliked the way that she said 'trained' and 'experienced', but restrained himself from remarking on it. "Aurors' identities aren't exactly secret, Rosemary. Grindelwald's men knew _precisely_ who to look for; the Knights, on the other hand, will be able to blend in just about anywhere."

"How will you even know where to start looking?"

Tom shrugged. "I have a few ideas."

Rosemary bit her lip as though she were trying to think of another potential hole in his plan. Although he was delighted that she seemed to be taking an interest, Tom was also bit annoyed – did she bring this up simply for the sake of arguing with him about it?

But then he recognized that same, anxious look on her face from a minute or so prior and knew that the real reason for her hesitation was something else entirely. "You're worried about it."

"More specifically," she told him, while looking down at her nails, "I'm worried about you."

"Well, there is no need to be. You know I am perfectly capable of defending myself – and more." His eyes gleamed, remembering once again the encounter with Cramer earlier.

She looked at him crossly. "I'm sure that's what all the Aurors told their wives before they disappeared."

Tom snorted. "Merlin, Rosemary, I am not going to disappear."

She didn't look entirely satisfied, but didn't pursue the subject further. Though he certainly didn't feel that Rosemary had any need to worry about him, he found it rather pleasant that she actually cared enough to worry in the first place. He was suddenly overcome with the urge to take her face in his hands and kiss her feverishly, which was exactly what he did next.

"Now then, onto your enticing suggestion from earlier…"

About an hour later, after a passionate spree in their new study, he carried her across the hall into his dormitory and together they climbed into bed.

With everything that had happened over the short span of the week prior, Tom was falling for her more quickly than his mind could even keep up with. It was an exhilarating feeling that he found both dreadfully alarming and irrevocably addicting.

Yes, things would certainly be different compared to their first go at all of this. And not only would they be different – they would be better. He pulled Rosemary's body against his and pondered where he might land in this intriguing new territory with her as he drifted off to sleep.

Oddly enough, as Tom rarely had dreams, a strange one found its way into his mind that night, only a snippet of which he could still remember the following morning:

"_You know, I have always seen a bit of myself in you."_

"_We are _nothing_ alike."_

"_Oh, I beg to differ. But if you insist on refusing to take my word on the matter, please allow me to demonstrate..."_

* * *

"_He knew for a fact that it was possible to fall and just keep falling." ― Tom Perrotta_

* * *

**Ah, the long-awaited confrontation between Warren, Tom, and Rose - hopefully you enjoyed reading it!**

**Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to leave reviews since my last update! I apologize if I haven't responded to yours yet - the site has some error right now where it isn't showing the most recent reviews (at least not on my end...), but I will reply as soon as they get it sorted out!(:**

**We still have 17 chapters left until the end of Part II, so there is _a lot_ to come. Thanks for reading!(:**

**-S**


	84. Part II - The Prison

The Prison

_April 20, 1945_

As Tom had predicted, the Ministry investigation came to an inconclusive close by the end of the week. A few students, primarily Slytherins, had been questioned, but there was too little evidence from the cases to blame any one person. The Knights had been diligent in that regard and Tom was quite satisfied with himself for how much he had taught them. Indeed, the orchestration of the murders was likely one of his proudest accomplishments at Hogwarts so far, falling only slightly behind the discoveries of his Slytherin lineage and the Chamber of Secrets. Perhaps, he thought arrogantly, he would soon have to add the defeat of Grindelwald to the list.

"I am optimistic that this is an unnecessary reminder, but you will not try _anything_ until I say so. Understood?" Tom looked around at Adam Lestrange, Abraxas Malfoy, and Antonin Dolohov. He had been tempted to bring along Brocklehurst and some of the other Knights members, but eventually decided against it given their inability to Apparate. Though they were of little use to him now, they would certainly prove their worth to him in a few weeks' time.

Satisfied with the affirmations he received in response, Tom led them inside the Twitchy Witch, an inconspicuous pub that Tom had come to know during the summer prior as a frequent haunt for some of the darkest wizards in Knockturn Alley. Inside, it was cavern-like and lit only by a few candles near the dingy bar that managed to illuminate just as far as the spider-web covered barstools. On the walls were sketches and portraits of disfigured witches and wizards that appeared to be stolen from the records of St. Mungo's Spell Damage ward. According to Mr. Burke, the place was run by a one-eyed witch who knew the faces of every Auror that had worked at the Ministry in the last fifty years and took considerable pleasure in exposing his or her identity to the unforgiving patrons whenever one dared to show up.

Unsurprisingly, it was one of Tom's favorite places in Knockturn Alley.

They ordered a round of drinks and Lestrange and Malfoy started chatting quietly about some brainless thing to keep them from looking suspicious (although that was essentially a given in a place such as this anyway), while Riddle and Dolohov surveyed the room and waited for the Eavesdropping Eardrops that Tom had brewed earlier that week to take effect. Soon, he began to hear snippets of the conversations around them:

"– ya' know damned well that vampire teeth are worth more than –"

"Aurors raided his shop the other morning –"

"– a curious dream, no doubt. I suspect that it might be a prophecy…"

Nothing particularly of note, until he heard:

"- in the alley between Howl Street and Vanish Way…set it to expire two weeks from now." The raspy voice came from the opposite corner of the pub, where a pair of cloaked wizards sat. "And this time, make sure you're not followed. We wouldn't want another mistake like Ashburn, would we? Next time that happens, _you're _going to have to answer to him – not me."

_Ashburn_. Tom recognized the name immediately as one of the Aurors that had gone missing while investigating the ECB scare. As he continued to listen in, his face twisted into an evil grin.

Jackpot.

"Two weeks?" the other figure hissed back. "That's longer than any of the others. What if –"

"Asking questions isn't part of the job. Haven't you learned that by now? Come now…it's time." The two wizard put some money on the table and left without another word.

He and Dolohov exchanged glances and their matching smirks confirmed that they had overheard the same conversation.

So as not to arouse suspicion, they waited five excruciatingly long minutes before leaving to follow the pair. Of course, by this time, they were nowhere to be found around the pub. Tom led the others further into Knockturn Alley toward the side street the wizard had mentioned, between Vanish and Howl.

While they hurried along, he wondered what exactly had they been talking about; _what_ was set to expire? A curse on someone's residence?

Apparently not, because the alley that they arrived at was completely barren except for a trash bin and some garbage scattered around it. Tom studied the stone walls of the buildings for traces of magic – surely there had to be _some_ sort of clue.

"Shit!" Malfoy suddenly exclaimed, jumping backwards about a foot.

Lestrange promptly burst out laughing. "You call yourself a bloody Slytherin? Fuck, mate, it's just a snake."

Tom whipped around to see it slithering down the opposite end of the alley.

"_Stop!" _he called after it in Parseltongue.

It froze, giving Tom a few minutes to catch up to it._ "My apologies for the imbecile," _Tom said as he knelt on the damp ground near the snake._ "Was there a wizard here a moment ago?"_

The snake stared at him for a moment and cocked its head to the side. _"How curious…you speak Parseltongue. I thought the Parselmouths were only a legend."_

He so did _not _have time for this. _"The wizard – did you see him?"_

"_Yes – but he was surely either drunk or mad. I was going to bite him, actually, because he scared away my dinner just as I was about to strike."_

"_What was he doing?"_

"_Muttering over a piece of garbage - some sort of spell, if I had to guess. He had a stick."_

"_A wand," _Tom corrected the snake. _"What garbage?"_

"_The bottle. There, by your friend's foot."_

_A portkey! Of course. _He scolded himself for not thinking of this sooner.

"_Thank you."_ Tom abruptly stood and started back to where the others were waiting.

"_Nice meeting you, Mr. Parseltongue," _the snake hissed after him.

"That's fucking wicked, mate," beamed Lestrange as Tom rejoined them.

"I know," Tom replied arrogantly while donning a smirk once more. "Now draw your wands," he instructed the three of them. "We are about to meet Grindelwald."

* * *

Although classes were scheduled to resume on Monday and Rosemary had a considerable amount to finish over the weekend in preparation, she found herself unable to focus on much of anything and had instead begun wandering the castle. It was rather peaceful at first, especially since curfew had just passed and few students were out, but all of that changed when she rounded the corner and nearly collided with Emily Springer.

"Springer," Rose greeted her coolly, rather unsure how to act. They hadn't spoken in months and their last interaction had been quite nasty.

"Horton."

She hadn't a clue what to say, but felt the urge to say _something_. "I heard about your engagement…congratulations."

Emily gazed at her in contempt. "I heard about _your_ engagement too. And that you're back with Riddle."

"Yeah, it's erm…it's been an interesting year."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them and Rosemary was about to excuse herself when Emily suddenly asked, "You never loved him, did you? Warren, I mean."

What point was there in lying? Rosemary shook her head. "No." She was trying to be nonchalant, but she slowly felt that dreadful feeling of guilt creeping up her spine. Before she knew it, she added, "I'm really sorry, Emily, especially for all the things that I said at the beginning of the year. I wish I could explain."

"Why can't you?"

"It's complicated."

Emily sighed and rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Rosemary. It doesn't matter anymore. Anyway, I suppose you're on your way to see Faye."

"Why would you say that?"

"After this afternoon? Hadn't you heard?"

"No," Rosemary snapped, her eyes widening in panic. "Where is she? The Infirmary?"

Emily nodded gravely. "I wouldn't let her see her reflection for a while if I were you – Faye's always been the vain kind."

Without another word, Rose rushed to the Infirmary in a full-fledged panic.

"Oh my gods! Faye, what happened?!" she cried as she approached her friend's cot.

Madam Roche shushed her and Faye's eyes slowly fluttered open – or eye, rather, as the other half of her face was entirely concealed by bandages. Emily was right, Faye did look a mess. "Where's Adam?" she mumbled.

"He's, erm, with Tom…" Rosemary eyed the matron, careful not to say anything that might indicate he was outside of the castle.

"That bastard – I can't believe…Oh Rosemary…" Faye abruptly started crying.

Rosemary gave the nurse a look of desperation. "Madam Roche, may we have a bit of privacy please?"

She nodded swiftly and left, but not without giving Rose a sour look for distracting her from her healing duties.

"Tell me what happened," Rosemary said soothingly, while taking a seat at the end of the cot. "From the beginning."

"I stopped by his dormitory after dinner to pick up a few of my things – you know, since we've been fighting and all and I've begun sleeping in my own dormitory again. And under his pillow I found…Merlin, this is mortifying. I'm such a bloody idiot!"

"What? What did you find?"

"A pair of knickers. They weren't mine and they certainly aren't Adam's."

Rosemary's jaw dropped in shock.

"But I knew _right away_ who they belonged to. Oh yes – how could I possibly forget who had been all over him this week? In the Great Hall, in the corridors…she was trying to seduce him every chance she got! And I _thought _it was all one-sided. But apparently not."

"_Who_, Faye?" Rosemary demanded, though she was fairly sure she had a good idea anyway.

"Hornby."

Yes, of course. Because who else would try such a stunt? But something about this didn't add up in Rosemary's head: Adam adored Faye and everyone knew it. Was his frustration with her over Markus really enough to crumble them?

"Did you confront her?"

"Well of course! Do you have any idea what she said to me?"

"What?" Rosemary ventured nervously.

"She said, and I quote: 'Of course I slept with him. And between you and me, he was far better the first time we fucked – before the two of you went steady.' Can you believe the nerve?"

"No. I truly can't," Rosemary shook her head. Clearly, the bitch didn't know when to quit. "But do you really believe her? It sounds like you need to talk to Adam…after all, this could just be her most recent attempt to break up the two of you."

"I don't know what to believe. But there _were_ all those rumors flying around in the summer before sixth year that they were snogging and the like."

"They're rumors, Love. Now where did all this come from?" Rosemary gestured to the bandages on her face.

"Well I was so angry that I ended up cursing her. She cursed me back and I tried to block it, but I was hit. And guess what it was?"

Some of the most awful curses that Rosemary could think of flashed through her mind. Had it burned half of Faye's face? Scarred her? The extent of her bandages made it seem quite serious.

"A Pimple Jinx. It doesn't even matter anymore if this was a hoax put on by Hornby – Adam will _never_ want me now!" Faye burst into tears again.

Rosemary rolled her eyes. "A Pimple Jinx is easy to cure – even an advanced version of the spell."

"That's what Madam Roche said too, but there is always a chance that healing _won't_ work. My skin was _flawless _before. _Flawless!_"

"Yes, about a point zero zero zero one percent chance," Rose scoffed. "You're going to be fine."

But even in this lighthearted moment, Rosemary was still boiling with anger internally. It was about time that she delivered on the threat she made to Olive after the last Knights meeting, wasn't it?

Faye sighed and closed her eyes, leaning back against her pillow. "I swear to Merlin I'm going to kill him _and_ that insufferable bitch as soon as I get out of here."

Rosemary surprised herself when she suddenly laughed darkly and replied, "Not if I get to her first."

* * *

Tom had traveled by portkey only once before and that night was a firm reminder as to why he had loathed it so much the first time. Not only was it nausea-inducing, it was completely disorienting. Even when he began to see the scenery of their destination appearing around them, everything continued to spin and the sounds around him were muted as though they were trapped in a giant whirlwind.

This wouldn't have been such an issue if there weren't spells being fired at them at precisely the same time. Tom felt the heat radiating off a streak of blue light graze his ear and he struggled to find his feet to balance himself, while at the same time firing a few spells in the general direction from which the light came. The spinning began to slow and sounds began to grow louder as Tom continued to fire spells until finally, everything was quiet again.

When the spinning finally came to a halt and Tom's eyes began to focus on his surroundings, he saw Malfoy and Dolohov paralyzed and lying on the moss-covered earth. A few feet past them, at a small stream, Lestrange was holding his stomach and retching from what was surely the after-effects of the portkey. On Tom's other side, at the base of a large cliff, three wizards he assumed were Grindelwald's men laid defeated.

"Lestrange, revive the others," he commanded, while looking up the side of the cliff. Just beyond the very top, he could see the tip of some sort of structure that was protected by a fortress of boulders and additional rock.

His heart started pounding and it was then that he knew: this was it. He had found Grindelwald's outpost.

"Holy Merlin's balls…" Lestrange sighed as he, Malfoy, and Dolohov rejoined Tom.

Dolohov pulled out his ominoculars and gazed up at the huge structure. "There are bars on some of the windows," he commented and handed them over to Tom.

Tom brought the ominoculars to his face and could see figures moving around inside, just beyond the bars. So it must have been some sort of prison, then, for Grindelwald's enemies. He adjusted the lenses on the ominoculars and tried to make out some of the faces inside in hopes that he might recognize them as some of the missing Aurors, but they were too far away for him to see anything useful.

"_Für das höhere Wohl_…" Malfoy said suddenly, pointing at the letters carved over the front of the stone façade. "That means 'For the Greater Good', doesn't it? In German?"

"Yes," Tom replied with a satisfied smirk. "It certainly does."

While Malfoy and Lestrange took pictures of the prison from the base of the cliff, Dolohov placed temporary sleeping enchantments on the three guards and Tom carefully wiped their memories of the encounter.

Tom had been extremely tempted to get a closer look, but knew it would be unwise given their limited numbers and his uncertainty of how many wizards were guarding the prison. Besides, now that they had a portkey that would be activated for the next two weeks, he would have plenty of opportunities to come back and scope it out in preparation for the Knights' attack. It was best to leave when they were still ahead and could easily go unnoticed.

* * *

Rosemary tied up her hair and hovered over the test subject (or victim, rather) that she had found on the dormitory windowsill. But even after hours of pouring over every book that Tom owned regarding dark magic, Rosemary still hesitated. Suddenly all she could think of was a conversation that she and Tom had earlier that week regarding Unforgivable Curses:

"Are the things that they say happen after you cast an Unforgivable Curse…are they true? Do you feel _different_ somehow?"she had asked him. They had been taught again and again in their Defense Against the Dark Arts coursework that performing an Unforgivable Curse changed the nature of one's magic permanently, somehow tainting it in a way that became progressively worse the more one used them.

"Not really," he told her while running a finger along the back of her hand. "It won't harm you like they want you to believe."

"They?"

"Think about it, Rosemary. Anything you might possibly experience has been largely overdramatized by the government to discourage people from trying the Curses."

"The punishment in Azkaban wasn't enough of a deterrent?" she muttered.

His face flashed a hint of a smirk. "Well you asked, didn't you?"

She considered this for a moment. "I suppose."

"As long as you perform them correctly, you have nothing to worry about; nothing about your magic will feel different." This had been admittedly quite reassuring, given his obvious experience with the Unforgivable Curses. However, what he said next had chilled her to the core: "Although there will be one change, of course: you will feel powerful."

And so, as Rosemary paused over the beetle with her wand at the ready, it was not because she was afraid that she would botch the spell. Rather, she was afraid of the darkness and the consequences of allowing it into her head. Tom had been able to handle it, clearly; after all, he had hidden it well enough that she hadn't even discovered it until months into their relationship. But what if she wasn't as strong as he was?

But then she remembered Faye's current state of devastation and knew there was no room for her to continue fearing the consequences. It was far past time to put Olive in her place once and for all – and this time, she would use whatever means were necessary.

"_Imperio," _she began and watched as puff of dark green smoke escaped from the end of her wand. The beetle, which had been scurrying around incessantly, seemed to slow down for a few moments, but then continued running toward the edge of her desk.

"_Imperio," _she tried again. This time she missed the insect completely and it escaped behind her desk. _"Accio beetle," _Rosemary said in frustration, before enlarging it with a light Engorgement Charm to make its next attempt at escape more difficult.

She took a deep breath and said the Unforgivable curse again. This time, the smoke coming out of the tip of her wand seemed to be a bit more directed and it wrapped around the beetle, which suddenly stopped moving as though it were transfixed by the spell. But when she tried to command it to cross the room, nothing happened. Rosemary tried to focus her mind, just as all of Tom's books had suggested.

She felt a surge of victory as she watched its leg twitch and begin to move in the direction of the door. Rosemary's heart pounded in excitement, despite the rather miniscule nature of this progress, and she was surprised to feel a burning desire within herself to succeed in seizing total control over the creature.

Her intense concentration was shattered, however, when she heard a voice from behind her: "It seems that you were more eager to begin than you initially let on."

Rosemary snapped her head around and saw Tom standing in the open doorway with a considerable smirk twisted across his handsome features. Her face flushed in embarrassment and she turned to begin cleaning up the mess of books she had scattered around her.

"So, how did it go?" she asked him as she resettled onto the window seat of the study, her voice slightly higher pitched than usual.

But Tom ignored her. "I would love a demonstration of your progress."

"I am awfully tired," she replied quickly as she felt her face begin flushing again. The thought of performing dark magic in front of Tom, who outranked her by several orders of magnitude, made her incredibly nervous. "It is almost three in the morning, after all…Perhaps another time."

"Tomorrow then." His dark eyes danced with excitement and she knew he wouldn't take no for an answer. Though despite her nervousness, she did feel a compulsion to reach for her wand and continue practicing…

"Alright," she answered weakly. Eager to change the topic, she prompted him once again: "Did the four of you find anything?"

"Yes, actually," he beamed and sat across from her in front of the window. "I found the prison in which he keeps his enemies."

He said this so nonchalantly that all she could manage to do was blink at him.

"_And _we now have a way of returning." He unfolded his cloak and showed her an empty Firewhiskey bottle.

"A portkey?"

He nodded and leaned his head back against the window, closing his eyes as a look of pure satisfaction spread across his face. It was one of the happiest, most relaxed she had ever seen him. "I wish you were there to witness it first-hand; Dolohov and Malfoy have pictures, of course, but they are nothing like what it was in person. The fortress was massive – there had to be at _least_ five hundred prison cells."

"Wasn't there anyone guarding it?"

"Oh yes," he answered proudly, his eyes still closed. "Three of them – easily defeated, of course. See? You had nothing at all to worry about."

"I suppose not." She stared at him, still marveling at his incredible accomplishment. He had managed to both find and return unscathed from the place that had eluded Auror after Auror for months. For a moment, Rosemary couldn't decide if it was thanks to his incredible intelligence and magical ability or a stroke of sublime luck, but she supposed it was probably some combination of both.

Rose saw his breathing begin to deepen and she pulled herself against his chest. "Tired?" she asked him, while reaching up to run her hand through his hair.

"No," he muttered in response.

Rosemary grinned. It was so very Tom Riddle to deny anything that could be even remotely construed as a moment of weakness. As she gazed up at him in admiration and ran a finger along his sharp jawline, an odd feeling of regret fell upon her, as though she were actually jealous for missing out on the excitement that evening. She wondered briefly where _that _could have possibly come from; a few days before, she had been worried sick at the thought of him going to track down Grindelwald and suddenly she wished she had gone with?

She was completely blindsided by her own feelings when she suddenly realized that there was a part of her that truly wanted to be a part of his world and all of the excitement that came along with it. After all, he and the others _were_ fighting for the ideals that she shared. Rosemary might not agree with all of their chosen methods, but she couldn't exactly argue the point of it all. Maybe, she thought wildly, if she did allow herself to get closer, she could even convince him that there were perhaps more efficient and far less violent ways of doing things.

Most importantly, it occurred to her that for them to grow closer, it would be necessary for her to venture further into darkness. And did she really have anything to fear as long as he was there to guide her?

* * *

_"Just like our eyes, our hearts have a way of adjusting to the dark" -Adam Stanley_

* * *

**Thanks for reading, everyone! As always, a special thanks to those who took the time to review as well.(:**

**I'm going out of town this coming weekend, so I'll be shooting for an early update. Lots of reviews will help to ensure that I have the motivation to finish on time.(; **


	85. Part II - One of Them

One of Them

_April 21, 1945_

"Well, don't be shy." Tom felt a devious grin spreading across his lips, "Let's hear it."

"Alright." She glanced timidly between Tom and the rat and he raised his eyebrow slightly at her hesitation. Just when he was about to make another comment to goad her along, she cleared her throat and said in an entirely academic way, "_Imperio_."

As Tom guessed upon hearing her incantation, little happened in response. Even so, just hearing her utter the word was enough to make the hairs on his arms stand up slightly.

He saw her cheeks burning red out of injured pride. "Nice try," Tom told her softly. "But if I may offer a suggestion…You truly have to mean it."

She nodded purposefully and attempted the curse again, though with marginally greater success than the time before.

"It must be performed in a precise motion – the flick of your wrist should be minute."

This time the form was better, but her voice was back to that same, reserved tone as before.

"Again."

"Be commanding, Rosemary."

"And again," he continued to prompt her.

Ten or so times later, her spell seemed to be taking hold (to his utter delight, of course), but something still wasn't quite right – clearly it was time for a new strategy.

"Allow me to demonstrate," he suggested. "_Imperio!_" Tom made the rat run in circles around her feet and was filled with pleasant conceit as Rosemary's eyes traced his every movement. "See?"

When it came time for her to take another stab at the curse, the execution improved markedly and for a moment, it appeared that she was in full control of their victim. But when her concentration suddenly broke, lifting the curse, the rat decided to make a break for the vent in the corner of the room.

Rosemary proceeded to call after it: "_Imperio! Imperio! _Oh, fucking hell!"

While Tom was floored by her apparent determination, it was obvious that she was quickly becoming frustrated. "Perhaps we should take a break," he suggested, snaking his arm around her waist.

"No," she snapped, wiggling out of his grasp and storming across the room to find the rat. Tom sighed happily and strode after her.

It slipped through the vent just in time and she threw her wand to the floor in anger, a slew of dirty words flowing from her lips, while he stared at her in amusement.

"What's so funny?" she spun around and barked at him upon seeing his expression. "I didn't see _you _doing anything to stop it."

"I am merely enjoying your fervency," he told her with a smirk. It was true: this was quite possibly the most fun he'd had in months – maybe ever.

She glared daggers at him for a few seconds, but her face eventually softened. "I need to get this right, Tom. Not just because of Myrtle – for Faye, too."

Tom gave her a slight nod, only vaguely aware of what she was talking about. That morning, when she was filling him in with everything that had happened between Donohue and Hornby, he had been far too exhausted from his exploits the night prior to listen to the details and had instead resorted to pretending to listen. The strategy worked perfectly well until she had suddenly asked him "Do _you_ think Adam cheated on Faye?"

"I care exceptionally little for gossip, Rosemary, as you know." It certainly wasn't a lie.

He remembered the way she had narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. "Are you attempting to dodge the question?"

"No," he replied shortly. This time, it _was_ a bit of a lie. But while Tom was no expert at relationships by any creative interpretation of the word, he suspected that it was unwise to allow her to find out that he hadn't been listening. And so, he continued: "Anything that occurs between them is utterly trivial to me. As long as Lestrange keeps to his place and Donohue stays out of the way, whatever happens is really quite inconsequential." There – back to the truth again.

She gave him a look of disapproval. "But he's your friend, Tom. Surely you care if they're happy...deep down, somewhere…" Rosemary proceeded to smile and poke at his chest as though in search of a literal soft spot.

Tom was suddenly hit with a surge of frustration that he hadn't expected – she didn't understand. For his entire life, he had been unable to feel anything for anyone, which had made it damn near impossible for him to have anything remotely similar to a 'friend'. No; all he ever had were the illusions of friends. Didn't she get that by now? Didn't she understand that that was what made _her_ so special? Apparently not. But then again, perhaps that wasn't the worst thing in the world.

Any feelings of frustration had abruptly faded away, however, as soon as he began instructing her on the Imperius Curse.

It suddenly occurred to him that, once again, Rosemary was ranting about Faye and Olive, her eyes glowing dangerously: "That awful bitch has no idea what she's gotten herself into."

Upon hearing these words (which were admittedly quite attractive ones, at that) come from her mouth, an idea struck him. Tom leaned toward her, stroking her forearm with his finger and said smoothly into her ear: "Use your anger, Rosemary – use all of your distaste for Hornby. Put all of it into that single word. _That's _how you cast an Unforgivable Curse."

She considered this for a moment, while Tom transformed a nearby goblet into a new rat. "Think of all the times she has been foolish enough to cross you."

His eyes were glued to her, absorbing every expression that passed over her face as she raised her wand. "Yes, that's it," he coaxed her. "Let your anger guide you." She glared down at the rat, while Tom so wished he could abuse his Legilimency talents for a quick glimpse at the thoughts running through her mind. "Show her that _you_ are in control. Do it, Rosemary."

Her lips parted and he found himself holding his breath, waiting for the powerful bout of magic that was sure to come. What happened next he would have never expected:

"_Crucio_."

The coldness behind the word was nearly palpable and Tom watched in her glazed over, bright blue eyes in love-struck awe while the rat convulsed near her feet.

_Well fuck._ He was halfway to needing a wank after _that_.

She seemed to come back to reality a few moments later and suddenly lifted the curse, staring blankly after the rat while it darted terrified across the room. "I didn't mean to do that," she told him with that same vacant expression. "I meant to cast the Imperius."

"You did very well, Rosemary." He cleared his throat and adjusted himself when she turned in the direction that the rat ran off to. "_Very_ well."

A flicker of a smile passed over her lips, but then she looked concerned and took a seat on the end of the bed.

_Oh no. _Tom begged any higher powers in existence that she wouldn't allow her conscience to get too involved in this glorious moment – things were _so close_ to being exactly how he had always wanted them to be between them. He stood before her and stroked her long, silky hair, attempting to distract her from any conflicting thoughts that may be running through her mind. "That was more impressive than what I have seen the majority of the Knights do," he told her. "Your power is far greater than you give yourself credit for."

"Hmm," she hummed, clearly bothered.

_No. Fuck. No. _He was _not_ about to let this progress slip between his fingers. In both his desperation and the residual shock from what he had just witnessed her do, he found himself saying, "May I tell you something, Rosemary?"

"Yes. What about?"

He turned her chin so she was forced to look directly into his eyes, knowing full well that they were among her greatest weaknesses when it came to his features. "Have I ever told you why I noticed you?"

She shook her head and he felt a weight lift off his shoulders in relief at her apparent captivation. "You haven't. When was it?"

"Not _when _– it wasn't just one moment. It was gradual, through your offhand remarks about Hornby, your brooding looks when you thought nobody was watching, your cavalier attitude toward school rules and your ability to so carefully hide it from the staff, and of course, your exceptional magical talents…I realized that you were far more complex than your pretty exterior could have ever suggested," he said lightly while running his fingers over her cheek; she smiled at him, as charmed as he had anticipated.

"I saw a bit of darkness in you–" Her eyes widened and he added in haste: "–the good kind. The kind that, if you chose to embrace it, could make you more powerful than you would have ever anticipated. It makes you remarkable, Rosemary – so unlike any of the others." Tom paused, unaccustomed to such blatant stabs at affection. But despite his uncertainty, it at least seemed to be working; at least she didn't have that same, troubled expression on her face that she did earlier.

Rosemary put her arms around his neck and pulled herself against his chest. "That is precisely what you want, isn't it?"

Damn. Caught red-handed.

"What is? That I want you to realize your full potential?" he said charmingly. "Of course."

She sighed. "I'm worried, Tom. I saw _Olive _being tortured just a moment ago, not a rat. What if I take things too far, to the point where using an Unforgivable feels like the only solution? Isn't that what separates the bad wizards and witches from the good ones?"

Tom scoffed. "Good and bad are just simplistic constructs that the Ministry uses to control the ignorant. As long as you are rational and logical in your actions, there is no need for you to concern yourself with them." He kissed the top of her head and added in an afterthought: "Do you think _I'm _a bad wizard because I use an Unforgivable here or there? There _is _a reason behind everything that I do…just like when I defended you from Cramer."

She looked up at him, but said nothing.

"Using Unforgivable Curses doesn't define your magic, Rosemary, they simply enhance it…And if you choose to do what you just did to Hornby, I guarantee that she will never dare to cross you – or Donohue, for that matter – again."

* * *

"So you talked with Adam I hope?" Rosemary slid into the seat next to Faye at the Ravenclaw table for dinner, even though she was so nervous for what was to come that evening that the thought of food made her feel nauseous.

"I did."

"And?"

Faye sighed. "What do you _think_ he said? He denied the entire thing, of course."

"And you don't believe him? Come on, Faye, don't let that awful slag get inside your head. You _know _she's lying."

She simply shrugged in response.

"Well you can't just stay angry forever, right? Is it really worth it?"

"Ask Adam that. It's _his_ fault for siding with Markus over me, his fiancé," she quipped irritably, though the guilty expression on her face told a different story. Rosemary suspected that it was only a matter of time before Faye decided that her relationship with Adam was more important than her loyalty to Jasper. Perhaps even later that night: Tom had organized a second Knights meeting for the weekend to give them all the opportunity to discuss what they had found with Dolohov, Malfoy, and Lestrange on their recent excursion. She wouldn't be at all surprised if Faye showed up afterward to see Adam.

"So…Are you going to Slytherin tonight?"

Faye sighed. "I dunno if I can bear to show my face in Slytherin again after what happened."

"I'll take care of Hornby," Rosemary said gently. "I wasn't joking when I visited you in the Infirmary, you know."

Faye raised an eyebrow. "What are you going to do?"

Rosemary smiled, the nerves in her stomach quickly untangling thanks in her refusal to let Faye down. "Why don't you come with me and find out?"

* * *

"Urgh…where am I?" Olive yawned as the effects of the Imperius Curse slowly wore off.

"Look around – you know _precisely_ where you are, Olive," Rose smirked. "Don't you remember what I said to you last week about what might happen if you crossed the line one too many times?"

Rosemary watched Hornby's eyes widening in panic as she glanced about the lavatory and saw Myrtle and Faye standing (and floating, in the case of Myrtle) in the corner. Olive tried to stand, surely to run from the bathroom, but instead fell on her face thanks to the petrifying jinx Rosemary had placed on her arms and legs. "You can't do this – you're Head Girl!"

Rosemary laughed. "Of course I can."

"I – I'll tell Dippet."

"Think about it carefully, Hornby. Who do you think he'll believe? Me, the Head Girl with a pristine record and an alibi backed by a certain Head Boy, or you, who was nearly expelled during third year for snorting pixie dust in the lavatory?" She let this sink in for a moment before continuing coldly, "I told you to watch who you crossed, Hornby. And that includes Faye and Adam." Rosemary glanced over at Faye, who was watching in awe. "While we're at it, now would be an excellent time to apologize to Faye for what you did."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Olive snapped and looked up at Rose defiantly.

"I will _not _be playing your games any longer, Hornby. Are you ready, Myrtle?"

"Wait! I didn't sleep with Adam, Faye!"

"And?" Rosemary prompted, while beckoning Myrtle to float closer.

"And I shouldn't have cursed you." Tears began to form at the corners of Olive's eyes. Merlin, she really _was _terrified of Myrtle. "I will never do it again – I swear!"

"Are you convinced, Faye? Do you think she means it?"

Faye crossed her arms and looked contemplative for a moment. "No. I don't," she said abruptly.

"Really, I'm sorry!"

Rosemary smirked. "You can't _honestly_ think that I am just going to let you go without fulfilling my threat, do you? What kind of message do you think that would send?" It suddenly struck her that the words coming from her lips were precisely something she could imagine Tom saying. This admittedly startled her, but it was far too late to turn back now.

"Do your worst, Myrtle."

The ghost's chosen method of torture consisted of chopping off all of the Slytherin's beloved hair and waterboarding her into apology after apology in the toilet stall that Myrtle had died in. Olive bawled the entire time.

Rosemary watched mercilessly, allowing Tom's words from that morning to fill her head and drown out any of the guilt she had expected to feel:

"_Think of all the times she has been foolish enough to cross you." _

"_Let your anger guide you. Show her that _you_ are in control."_

"Enough, Myrtle," Rosemary announced suddenly while Hornby sputtered and coughed. "I would like a turn, if you would be so kind."

"Be my guest," Myrtle cried happily, which was followed by a maniacal laugh.

Rose nodded politely. "Well then…Olive, I believe you're long overdue for this: _Crucio._"

She hadn't been planning this, but the overwhelming urge had suddenly taken over. Her loathing for Hornby coursed through every blood vessel in her body, flowing out toward the fingertips that held her wand. She told herself again and again that this one spell would make up for all the things that Olive Hornby had done or said to her and Faye over the years.

But the curse came at a price and, quite frankly, it was rather exhausting to cast. Rosemary lifted it after five seconds, her ears still ringing from Olive's screaming. She thanked herself mentally for casting a Silencing Charm on the lavatory before lifting the Imperius Curse.

Another Cruciatus tempted her, but she felt suddenly drained and could not afford to lose face by casting a faulty curse at this point. "I think she's had enough." Rosemary knelt down beside her and whispered, "I'd leave before I change my mind, Hornby. And if you dare to breathe a _word_ about this, this is only a taste of what will happen next time."

Before she could say another syllable, Hornby was gone.

Faye clapped her hands together and squealed in delight. "That. Was. _Amazing_."

Rosemary smiled proudly. It _was _rather amazing; in the matter of about five minutes, she had put the girl that had been bullying them for years in her rightful place. Tom had certainly been right about one thing – it felt pretty damned good to be in control.

Faye skipped happily out of the lavatory and Rose glanced up at the ghost. "Are we even, now?"

"Consider your debt repaid," Myrtle nodded with a giggle. "That was really quite good, you know. You're more than welcome to come back and help me haunt students every now and again if you'd like."

"How thoughtful," Rosemary replied dryly with a smirk.

For the next few hours, her thoughts continued to reel from the encounter. At first, she grew increasingly paranoid that she had slipped up somehow and that Dippet or another staff member would come to announce her expulsion at any moment. But once the paranoia came to a peak and she took three shots of gin to compensate, it began to wane and she truly allowed herself to believe that there was a chance she had gotten away with it. Eventually, this evolved to the feeling of utter pride, just around the time that the Knights meeting began.

Because of Tom's rounds schedule, she didn't have the chance to tell him about her recent triumph before that evening's meeting. But judging from the spark of energy in his eyes, he already had _some_ idea that it went well.

And Merlin, it _had._ She expected to feel a great deal more guilt that she was experiencing in reality; instead, she felt vindicated.

In fact, Rosemary found herself so preoccupied with the memory of that afternoon that few of Tom's words so much as scraped her consciousness. She somehow managed to deduce the gist of the meeting from the conversations around her upon its conclusion: small groups of the Knights, led by Tom, would be making trips to the outpost throughout the next few weeks to gain intel for their upcoming attack. Recalling the jealousy she felt the night prior as Tom excitedly recounted everything he had seen, she made a mental note to ask him what he thought about her accompanying them on the next mission.

In fact, she was just about to when Dolohov seemed to sneak up on her out of nowhere. "Consider me impressed, Miss Horton," he greeted her with a sly smile.

"You heard?"

"_Everybody _has heard. Well, everybody in Slytherin at least – Donohue has been bragging about it all afternoon as though she was the mastermind behind the whole thing. But we all know the truth, of course," he winked.

Rosemary rolled her eyes, completely unsurprised by the news of Faye's response.

"Well? Details?" he nudged her as they walked down the stairs of Lestrange's dormitory and into the common room.

"There isn't a doubt in my mind that Faye has already exaggerated the tale thoroughly."

Dolohov poured her a glass of gin and handed it to her before spiking some pumpkin juice with Ogden's Old Firewhiskey for himself. "A lady never _'crucio's'_ and tells, eh?"

"Something along those lines," she smirked. Surely taking after Tom's example, the once- stoic Dolohov had learned to be surprisingly charming when he wanted to be.

"Well, it looks as though you've made up your mind; she wasn't a mudblood, but I'm sure Riddle will make an exception." Dolohov clinked his glass against hers. "Welcome to the Knights, Horton."

Just like that, she was one of them.

* * *

It had taken almost all of Tom's extensive willpower to avoid the rumors of what happened in favor of hearing the entire story for the first time through her lips. And so, as soon as he finished speeding through everything he needed to discuss with Malfoy, he abruptly ended the conversation and crossed the room to where she stood with Dolohov.

"I'm surprised you want to stay for a while," he began while eyeing her rather full cocktail glass. _Damn Dolohov and his pureblood-instilled hospitality. _"Considering that classes resume tomorrow."

Rosemary downed it within a few seconds (an admittedly rather impressive feat) and smiled up at him. "There. Ready to go."

He beamed internally as they walked briskly through the castle to the privacy of their dormitory. From the way she was suddenly keeping pace with his longer legs, she was clearly just as excited to tell him about what had happened with Olive as he was to hear about it.

"I suppose you'd like to hear the full story," she began in a jumpy, excited voice as soon as he shut the door behind them.

"Don't even think of sparing a word," he warned her playfully.

He sprawled out on the bed and closed her eyes as she began her recount, allowing her words to paint a picture in his mind of the scene. The only way it could have been better was if –

"Hold on a moment. I could just _show_ you what happened with Legilimency."

Well, if there was any doubt in his mind that he loved her before, it was certainly gone now.

The memory unfolded and he watched its entirety while blinking as little as he possibly could. As he exited her mind, he grappled with the reality that the girl laying on her back gazing up at him, was the same one that he had just witnessed deliver an incredible Cruciatus Curse. But it was true: there she was, his dark little princess.

"Well, what did you think?"

That he _desperately_ wanted to fuck her right then was exactly what he was thinking. Even so, he managed to restrain himself momentarily and come up with this suave reply: "I-er…Well…"

Or maybe not so suave. Apparently, she had succeeded in making him momentarily speechless, a rare accomplishment indeed.

To save face in fear of the idiotic mess that might come out of his mouth next without his consent, he allowed himself to give into his urges and kiss her in full force. As their snogging grew more impassioned, his hands tore at the bulky clothes that lay in the way of his skin on hers and she teased him in return, grinding her hips up against his. While he may have had the willpower to abstain from such temptation under normal circumstances (well, for at least another few minutes), he simply wanted her too badly to wait. Caught up in a passionate frenzy, he jumped off the bed, pulled her to her feet, and began peeling off each article of clothing one by one while she unzipped his trousers and slipped a hand inside to stroke him.

He fought the urge to groan (the only noises he wanted to hear that night were the ones _she_ would be making) and pushed her back onto the bed before removing his own clothing and standing before her for a moment to examine her in entirety.

This beautiful, dark little creature was all his, so perfect that he was beginning to suspect she was some sort of a karmic repayment for all of the years of misfortune brought onto him by his damned parents. But he would not consider such an explanation seriously; after all, it would only detract from the pride he had garnered upon winning her.

And now that her heart was won at greater depth, he would not allow her to stray from him ever, ever again. Tom crushed his body against hers, so close that he was unable to breathe fully until they finished.

While they recovered and they settled into their typical sleeping arrangement, she turned to him in the dark and said suddenly, "I have given it some thought and I would like to accompany you and the others to spy on Grindelwald's base this week."

Merlin, he _did_ love this girl.

* * *

_"I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin." – Sara Gruen_

* * *

**Hello! Sorry for the delay. :/ I finished this chapter a couple of hours into my travels only to find out that we wouldn't have WiFi for the weekend. -_- But it happens. Almost done with the next chapter, though, and hopefully the events of this one partially made up for the wait.(;**

**Thanks so much to all of you who have recently left reviews on the story! Your ongoing support is sooo appreciated. :D**

**One more week until the end of my first year of grad school - thank you for your patience throughout the year. It was definitely a challenge in time management to keep writing this fic with everything else going on. I'm really, really looking forward to writing more over the summer!(:**

**Cheers,**

**S**


	86. Part II - Young Love

Young Love

* * *

"_They were together constantly, for lunch, for dinner, and nearly every evening – always in a sort of breathless hush, as if they feared that any minute the spell would break and drop them out of this paradise of rose and flame." – F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

_April 23, 1945_

Classes had finally resumed on Monday, and after the long string of events that had filled the school's two-week hiatus and all of the emotions that had accompanied them, Rosemary was ecstatic to add a bit of structure back into her days. Of course, the part of her that was inherently Ravenclaw had begun to crave knowledge once more as well.

Despite the bitterness between them for months, Rose and Tom's relationship felt fresh and completely revived. To her pleasant surprise, her stomach seemed to be reverting back to its old ways and somersaulting every time Tom walked into the room or answered a professor's question. There was a delicious giddiness about her that made all of the time they spent apart feel completely pointless. How had they survived the time they had spent apart? After just two short weeks of being reunited, it was nearly unthinkable. What had once driven them apart had now brought them closer than ever before. Tom was right, she had realized: a little darkness was good – perhaps even necessary if they were to be together.

Not everything was running as smoothly for others as it was for Tom and her; Faye and Adam remained at odds, though they had at least progressed to the point where they were speaking again. While not a particularly marked improvement, it absolved some of Rosemary's guilt for the role she had played in the Jasper situation. Not that she was dwelling on it any longer anyway – with her interview at St. Mungo's quickly approaching, she had far more pressing things to worry over.

As per the interview process that Healer McHughes had described in a recent letter, Rosemary would have to collect statements of recommendation from at least two of her professors. Though she was arrogantly aware of the fact that she was Blair's preferred candidate for the position, she knew that there was still a necessity to impress the rest of the hiring panel. And so, instead of limiting her application to two professors, she decided to obtain recommendations from Headmaster Dippet and all four Heads of Houses.

Her first visit, in certainty that it would go the smoothest and boost her confidence the most profoundly, was with Professor Slughorn. Her expectations were not disappointed:

"I must say, I am very proud of everything you have accomplished during your time at Hogwarts, Rosemary. I admittedly find myself rather envious to this day that you were sorted into Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin."

She smiled; they were all such typical comments for Slughorn to say.

"I do hope that things between you and your parents work out. I've known Basil and Evelyn for many years, after all; I'm sure they will come 'round."

Well, she had known them for years as well and was quite sure that they _wouldn't_ come around, but she didn't bother telling Slughorn that. Rosemary had received another letter from her parents a couple of days prior and promptly torched it, just like she had the first. She was absolutely through enabling her parents to tell her how to live her life and stand in the way of what she desperately wanted. And so soon, she would have everything: Tom, the beginning of a career at St. Mungo's. _Freedom_.

"I wouldn't be surprised if your talent in potions surpasses mine in a few years, you know," he continued. "I do hope that when that day comes, you'll remember old Professor Slughorn."

"Of course, Sir," she replied as a pang of sadness filled her chest. It was strange to think about the fact that just about a month and a half of her Hogwarts education remained and even stranger to realize she would no longer see her favorite staff on a daily basis.

But then again, this also meant a bit of distance between herself and a certain other professor – the one that _always_ seemed to be suspicious (particularly as of late) and required her full concentration in order to keep her own suspicions of him quiet in her mind: Professor Dumbledore. She couldn't even imagine how elated _Tom_ would be to get away from his careful, blue-eyed gaze.

And like with Professor Slughorn, her interaction with Dumbledore after voicing her request for him to submit a statement of recommendation for her went about as she had expected:

"You have been acting rather odd lately, Rosemary," he had suddenly announced just when she was about to excuse herself and make a break for the door. "Is there anything you would like to discuss?"

_Shit – does he know? About Myrtle? Jasper?_

_No! Stop! Think of something else – clear your mind. Think of...the recipe for the Pepperup Potion. Yes, that's it. Good._

Simultaneous to these thoughts, she had answered him aloud with a resounding "no", which she worried in retrospect had come out of her mouth just a bit too quickly. His slightly raised eyebrow only confirmed this fear and she realized she would need to think of _something _– and quickly – to get him to let her be.

"I suppose I have just been rather nervous lately, Sir…First with this interview, but also with Tom. You, erm…you aren't going to tell my father about Tom and I, are you?" she asked the professor cautiously, while internally praising herself for her quick-thinking; the best cover-ups always involved some sliver of truth.

Dumbledore looked at her evenly. "I believe quite firmly that anything that occurs between you and Mr. Riddle and how that impacts your interaction with your parents, is entirely your business."

Rosemary made a show of looking relieved, but didn't necessarily believe him. It was really quite incredible to realize how suspicious Tom had made her of Dumbledore, though all for good reason, of course.

"With that being said, however, I cannot help but feel rather concerned on a personal level in regard to the involvement between the two of you, especially given your previous complaints regarding Mr. Riddle."

"Oh – that?" Rosemary laughed nervously, caught off-guard by his comment. Then she forced herself to laugh again –lighter this time, as though he had merely brought up an amusing memory –and said, "I suppose I will have to confess that my jealousy had gotten the best of me that particular afternoon."

Dumbledore smiled as if she had triggered a slew of _his_ memories. "Ah, to be young and in love," he said distantly.

* * *

"Good evening," Rosemary greeted him as she let herself into the study and skipped over to his desk to kiss him on the cheek. "Sorry I'm late – I had a meeting with Professor Dumbledore."

"About?" he asked, his eyes refusing to leave the exceptionally detailed sketch of Grindelwald's prison that he had been working on the past few days.

"Oh, I was just telling him everything – your plan, your suspicions of him, on and on," she told him casually while putting away her books.

"Hilarious," he glared at her teasingly.

"That was only half of the meeting. The other half was requesting him to write a recommendation letter for St. Mungo's." He could hear the smirk in her voice as she spoke. Then she leaned down, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind him, and peered over his shoulder. "Putting off the Ancient Runes paper, I see."

"Actually, I finished it this afternoon." He glanced up at her just to see her eyes widen and then fill with awe, as Viesey had only given them the assignment the day prior. "This," he gestured down at the sketch, "is where Grindelwald has been hiding." An expression of awe dawned on her face all over again and Tom reveled in his ability to impress her.

From there, they launched into a lengthy discussion of the plan he had for the Knights and their upcoming attack, followed by dinner and a few of hours of reading and schoolwork, until one of them decided it was time for their evening frisk. To Tom's utter delight, this had become their pattern, though he was also aware of its blatant unsustainability. Soon he would be pulled back to his extracurricular pursuits of dark magic and she would be pulled into preparation for her job at St. Mungo's (her obtainment of which he couldn't be more certain).

Until then, he supposed it wouldn't hurt to allow himself to indulge in the unhealthy cycle the two of them had fallen into; they _did _have quite a bit of lost time to make up for, after all. And besides that, the urge to learn everything there was to know about this new, deliciously dark version of Rosemary had him completely captivated.

She made several comments over the next few days about how distracted and preoccupied he seemed with plotting the Knights' next move. But in reality, the aloofness she perceived was his only defense against showcasing his mounting obsession with everything _Rosemary_. He replayed the scene of her delivery of the Cruciatus to Olive she had shown him again and again all week, only to become devastatingly morose when he noticed the details were already beginning to fade into oblivion.

And then, later that week, Tom almost allowed a certain three-word sentiment to slip past his lips. Thankfully, he stopped himself just in time and fulfilled his compulsion to say that deceptively innocuous phrase by mouthing each word inaudibly against her neck.

Even though he had told her a hundred times before during their first go around, he now understood how superficial and naïve they had been. The new dynamic between them was clearly different on several levels, which Tom supposed meant starting all over again from scratch. Of course, that would entail holding himself back from saying all the things that continuously flashed across his mind.

Merlin, what was _wrong_ with him? One successful Cruciatus Curse and she had turned him into a complete sap.

"You're thinking about the plan again, aren't you?"

"No," He smirked at her. "Something _else_ has my mind a bit preoccupied at the moment."

"Oh? And that is?"

Fortunately, at least in terms of his sanity, there still existed plenty of ways to assert himself with her.

He reached over and grazed her lips with his fingers. "The thought of your beautiful mouth wrapped around my –"

"Oh _goodness_," she blushed at his directness. Tom felt a surge of pride for causing her sudden embarrassment; she may catch him off guard at times, but that certainly didn't stop him from doing the same to her.

He smirked at her in arrogant satisfaction when she turned back to her reading, as though she wanted to pretend he hadn't said anything – but he wouldn't let her get away _that_ easily. "Well?" he asked, moving to stand directly in front of her.

"I'm busy at the moment." Now she was just being difficult because he had embarrassed her. They played this game of theirs far too often for him to genuinely believe that she didn't want it.

"I don't care." He let out a short laugh.

She glanced up at him coolly. "Well, then I suppose you'll have to make me."

"Gladly," he said crisply, before suddenly grasping her and dragging her off the couch.

"Tom!" she laughed while struggling against him.

"Are you going to make me tie you up? You know that I won't hesitate to do so," he said smoothly into her ear.

She glared up at him in mock-defeat and knelt in front of him. He loved playing this game with her, even if he wasn't really in _complete_ control. It was about as close as he could get without actually upsetting the balance of power between them.

Tom removed his trousers and began stroking himself an inch or so from her face while watching her attempt to fight off an excited smile. "Don't be shy," he told her seductively, while guiding her head towards him with his hand.

Her warm mouth wrapped around him and his eyes rolled back in pleasure. She knew just how to please him; she knew the precise locations that, when she used more or less pressure, would drive him completely mad. "Fuck," he groaned and pulled her hair, before reaching down the front of her blouse to tug gently on her nipples and causing her to moan against him.

The only bad part of all this was his inability to restrain himself with her. She had the remarkable ability to bring him close to the edge again and again, until he couldn't take it anymore and flipped her around for a nice fuck.

Come to think of it, that _did_ sound fairly excellent. Tom pulled her up and pushed her onto the bed, admiring the redness of her knees from the carpet – a tribute to her obedience. He took his time sliding her clothes off, relishing every inch of her pearlescent skin. They snogged for a while, hands running over each other's bodies as though it had been months since they last touched (though, in reality, it had only been since yesterday).

"On your hands and knees," he abruptly commanded her, as he began to ache for a release.

He could almost see her shaking in anticipation as he shed the rest of his clothes and stood behind her, running his hands over her back and firm arse. She let out a slight yelp when pressed a finger inside of her. "So wet," he murmured. "You want it – no, you _need_ it, don't you?"

"Yes," she whimpered.

"Tell me."

"I need it – I need _you_."

"That's it. Good girl." He smirked and positioned himself at the edge of her opening.

Just as he was about to press himself into her, they heard a sharp tap on the window. And then another – again and again. An owl at _this_ hour?

He and Rosemary exchanged a rather pained glance. Perhaps if they ignored it, it would simply wait until morning and deliver its post during breakfast with all of the other owls. With this resolve, Tom leaned down and kissed the back of her neck, readying himself for the sensation of her tight little–

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath as the sharp tapping continued incessantly. "This had _better_ be important…"

He slipped on his pair of trousers and went to the window, immediately recognizing the owl as Raoul's.

_Tom,_

_Training cancelled this week as per Jennings' request._

Tom sighed in irritation. It had been nearly a month since his last training with Jennings and it was beginning to make him feel rather antsy. The Tournament was approaching in just over two months' time and he was still fixated on winning after the fiasco with the reporter last year.

_Before you start moping about, take a careful look at the photo I've enclosed. I believe it may be of considerable interest of you._

_Visit soon,_

_Raoul_

"Who is it from?" Rosemary called from the bed.

"Raoul," he answered while removing the photo from the envelope and holding it up near the candlelight. Two young men stared back at him stoically before turning toward each other and breaking into laughter. He watched the picture loop of their movements over and over again, trying to place the familiar face of the slightly more serious looking wizard on the left. Like lightning, it suddenly hit him: Dumbledore.

Tom felt Rosemary's bare chest press against him as she peered over his shoulder.

"It's Dumbledore," he told her, gesturing to the far younger version of his most detested professor.

She squinted and leaned in closer. "Really? He looks so…"

"Young?"

"Yes. It's odd. And him…" she pointed to the other wizard, who had a more boyish face. "He looks so familiar."

Tom handed her the picture to hold for a moment and crossed the room, sifting through his piles of every_ Daily Prophet_ issue that had featured anything related to Dumbledore or Grindelwald in the past year or so.

"Is _this_ who he reminds you of?" Tom asked her with a smirk.

She swallowed and nodded and he tossed the paper featuring a full-face picture of Gellert Grindelwald aside while slipping on a new shirt.

"Where are you going?"

"Raoul's." He glanced up at her and realized she wasn't getting dressed; in fact, she looked rather dissatisfied. While the letter had meant a rather abrupt end to their evening spree, surely she understood the magnitude of what he had just received.

"Well, I suppose you'll have to catch me up later, then."

He smirked to himself as he slipped his shoes on. So _that _was what it was about – she felt left out. "Aren't you coming?"

"Oh – of course." Her demeanor shifted entirely and she began dashing around to get dressed.

Yes, things between them were _certainly _different now.

* * *

"It's grand, isn't it?" she announced while sliding her hands down the elegant marble pillars that framed Raoul's front door. "The last time we were here I didn't even take the time to look around at his new home. Do you think he's offended?"

"We were a bit distracted," Tom replied amusedly. "I'm sure he understands."

Beaumont opened the door to greet them after the second knock. "I see you received my letter. One question – do you ever fucking sleep?" He rubbed his eyes groggily.

"Your owl doesn't seem to think so."

Raoul sighed. "I told him to deliver it in the morning – the stupid fucker never listens. Well, come in. I'll put on some tea."

"Where did you get this?" Tom asked as soon as they were settled in the sitting room, removing the picture from his pocket and tossing it on the coffee table between the three of them.

"The Ministry, believe it or not."

Tom raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yes, they're quite aware that Dumbledore and Grindelwald have a history. In fact, that is the entire reason they've made him head of Hogwarts security and have involved him in just about all of the Ministry-level plans to fight Grindelwald. They figure that Dumbledore knows him better than anyone else, see."

"How did they know each other?" Rosemary asked. "Were they childhood friends?"

"Of sorts. They met when Dumbledore was living in Godric's Hollow, just after he graduated from Hogwarts. Albus' sister, Ariana– a squib, mind you –was killed in some sort of magical accident and Grindelwald helped him to move past her death."

"And then?"

"And then Grindelwald began delving into dark magic and Albus wasn't on board with any of it. They parted ways and years later, Grindelwald began to cultivate his following.

Tom snorted. Dumbledore's holier-than-thou attitude when it came to magic and naivety of the advantages of dark magic was almost wearily predictable.

But then he realized: it was almost _too_ predictable.

"That is everything the _Ministry_ knows of the story," Raoul concluded. "Of course, there could very well be more."

"I would bet anything on it," Tom muttered.

"The poor bloke I got it out of thought so too. Then again, he was in a bit of a compromising position and seemed a bit eager to tell me precisely what I wanted to hear."

Tom felt Rosemary shift uncomfortably in her seat. "A compromising position?" Tom prodded Raoul on. If Rosemary was going to be by his side from then on, she would have to get over her discomfort with the idea of torture and other less politically correct methods of gaining information.

"Yes, well…Desperate times call for desperate measures." Beaumont poured a shot of firewhiskey into his tea.

Tom liked the sound of that; it meant that Raoul was actually _doing _something rather than just waiting for more intel to come his way. But he couldn't help but wonder what had sparked this sudden change. Raoul soon gave him an answer:

"I've been watching MAGI's earnings closely. On a daily or weekly basis, everything looks normal and there is nothing that would suggest any sort of involvement with Grindelwald. But looking monthly…even yearly, there are small surges in their profits that just happen to align quite closely with the times that Grindelwald's regime was preparing for their next attack. Either it's a remarkable coincidence or MAGI is selling them supplies. And wouldn't you know it? Their profits spiked more than they have in ten years yesterday…I can only imagine what is bound to happen in a couple of weeks' time." He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Anyway, the Ministry has essentially crippled itself by involving Dumbledore in anything. Everything hinges on him. He is the only way that Grindelwald loses. Or wins. It all depends on where his loyalty falls. That puts him in a place of considerable power, of course. He can't lose, really – it's merely a matter of deciding which will be the sweeter deal. And Grindelwald will continue to stay steps ahead of them unless another whistleblower decides to betray his regime. Unfortunately, that seems rather unlikely, given their success over the past year." Raoul shook his head. "Of course, the other option is that someone outside the Ministry steps in…"

Yes – _now_ they were getting somewhere.

"…but first off, that requires man-power and while I _do_ have a sizable list of names that owe me a favor, it's hard to tell what we'd be up against. Not to mention the fact that nobody has the first clue about where to find Grindelwald –"

"Actually," Tom interrupted, a proud smirk spreading across his face. "I do."

"So you mean to tell me that a _portkey_ to Grindelwald is sitting in your dormitory right now?" Raoul gave Tom an incredulous look.

"Yes," he smirked proudly, offering no further explanation.

"Well then," Raoul blinked at the two of them several times, momentarily speechless. "_That_ certainly changes things…"

* * *

**Finals are OVER! Yay!**

**I've realized that I really miss thanking each of you individually for reviewing, so I'm going to start doing that again. Here goes! Thank you to RainbowKitteh13, x2leoj, Lady Ravanna, RosiePosie15, TigerInTheMoonlight, Sarah, lizzzsunshine, slacker4life, marly4077, Jehilia, Oksanallex, and a Guest user for your reviews! Much appreciated, as always. I haven't responded to everyone yet (I literally _just_ finished my last final and wanted to post this asap), but I will within the next couple of days.(:**

**Big, big things will be happening next chapter in regard to Grindelwald and with Rosemary as well. Stay tuned, friends!**


	87. Part II - Defeated

Defeated

_April 30, 1945_

"Please tell us what qualifies you for this position, Miss Horton."

Rosemary stared back at the interview panel for a moment while her mind suddenly went blank. Healer McHughes sat in the middle and on his left was Zara Cartney, the lead Healer Assistant in the Potion Poisonings Ward. It had taken Rosemary a moment to remember Zara after their introduction, but quickly recognized her as the Gryffindor half-blood that had served as Head Girl during Rose's second year at Hogwarts.

But then there was Roderick Stidolph, the Acting Director of St. Mungo's hospital, whose stoic face was reminiscent of aged leather. He reminded her of Jennings with his indecipherable expression that either equated to aloofness or thinly veiled dislike. It threw her off completely.

"Well, erm…" she grappled with her response. What _were _her qualifications? Would they _actually _be any better than those of the others interviewing for this same position?

Damn! Where was her arrogance when she needed it? What had she been thinking? This was her _first_ interview which would arguably be the most important one of her life. Why hadn't she practiced more beforehand? It was far too late now – one question in and she was already well on her way to humiliating herself.

She needed to say something…_anything_. Her hands were shaking slightly when she finally opened her mouth, hoping what might come out wouldn't be too outlandish: "I have earned top marks in all of my N.E.W.T. coursework required to become a Healer. Furthermore, I was appointed as a Prefect and then Head Girl which allowed me to gain leadersh-"

"Excuse me, Miss Horton," Stidolph interrupted. "Surely you're aware that all of our applicants are exceptionally qualified students with similar achievements as your own."

"Of course, Sir." She felt her face flushing red.

He narrowed his eyes slightly at her. "Then what makes _you_ superior to the others? Only the very best are recruited to work at St. Mungo's, do you understand?"

Rosemary's mouth nearly fell open at his blatant condescension and her temper flared in response. "Actually, I was already recruited to work at St. Mungo's alongside Healer McHughes in the development of the antidote to ECB."

"And we very much appreciate your hard work," Blair chimed in and gave her a warm smile.

"…only a glimpse of what working at Mungo's is _actually _like…" she heard Stidolph muttering to himself under his breath.

Zara coughed suddenly – or was that a disguised laugh?

The interview continued through several additional questions regarding her interest in potions, her reasons for wanting to become a Healer, and a hypothetical case where she was told to identify the correct potion to administer and talk through her reasoning.

"One more question, Miss Horton," Blair began. "It is important that anyone we hire at St. Mungo's commits to at least five years of service. Would you be willing to sign a contract with those terms?"

"Certainly." The truth of the matter was that she would sign her soul away if it meant this opportunity; but she supposed telling him that would be a bit overkill.

"Excellent. Do either of you have any other questions?"

Zara shook her head. "It was a pleasure to meet you more formally, Rosemary."

"Alright," Blair said quickly and clapped his hands together, as though to protect her from another interrogation from Stidolph. "I should be getting back to –"

But Stidolph interrupted by clearing his throat and suddenly asked, "What exactly do your parents think of all this, Miss Horton? A pureblood lady such as yourself rarely pursues Healing as a profession."

She froze. What now? Should she lie and tell them that her parents approved? No, that wouldn't work – her father knew just about everyone. In fact, he might have found out about her interview already and instructed Stidolph to prevent her from getting hired…

As lying appeared to be far too risky in this situation, Rose took a deep breath and said, "I have yet to tell them."

"And if they disapprove, which is nearly certain given your hesitation to tell them? Where will that put us if we pursue you instead of other candidates? We aren't in the business of wasting time, after all."

"Stidolph," Blair said sharply.

Rosemary was still shocked at his gall, but forced herself to maintain her composure. After all, if she planned to take a diverging path from the one her parents and society had paved for her, she supposed she would need to get used to this sort of thing. "The last thing I want to do is waste your time," she told the three of them, allowing her gaze to linger just a bit longer on Stidolph. "But I want this position and have for just about as long as I can remember. So if my parents disapprove, they will just have to get over it."

Stidolph rolled his eyes, probably believing she was naïve for saying such a thing. Her stomach sank in the realization that anything she could have said wouldn't have been enough to change his opinion that she simply did not belong at St. Mungo's.

"I'll walk you to the tea room where Horace is waiting," Zara offered, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over the room. Right. Rosemary had forgotten that she would be expected to recount every detail of the interview to Slughorn on their trip back to Hogwarts. Given the security measures at Hogwarts, Dippet had only permitted her to attend the interview under the condition that a staff member escort her there.

Rosemary nodded and quietly thanked Stidolph and McHughes for their time before following her out of the meeting room and into the corridor. "Sorry about Roderick. He can be a complete prick; not _all _the time. Most of it, though. You handled it surprisingly well."

"Oh, it's alright," Rosemary laughed nervously, still a bit shaken from the encounter.

"Don't worry – Blair likes you, and in the end his opinion is the one that matters. And personally, I'd _much_ rather be working with a fellow Hogwarts alum." Zara winked at her, then laughed. "I suppose I should reserve my biases until we're through interviewing. Anyhow, you should receive a letter from Belinda, the secretary for our Ward, within the next week or so to let you know whether or not you received the position and, if you did, what some next steps will be."

Rosemary's stomach twisted uncomfortably. It seemed so anticlimactic that the answer to an opportunity she had waited the better part of her life for would be revealed through a measly letter.

* * *

Tom lingered behind his classmates as they filed out of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Missing among them, of course, was Rosemary, who had missed classes that day to visit St. Mungo's. His heart pounded excitedly every time he remembered, knowing she would soon be back with news that she had secured the career she had dreamt of for so long. And under the minute possibility that someone _else_ received the position that was rightfully hers? Well, he would take care of that personally.

But celebrating or otherwise, it would have to wait. That night, everything he and Raoul had planned over the weekend would be put into action and if it all went ideally, it might mean the end of Grindelwald's reign.

"Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Riddle? Do you perhaps require more clarity on the topic of defending oneself against curses that afflict the victim subconsciously?"

"No, Sir," Tom let out a short, arrogant laugh. As usual, they had learned nothing with Dumbledore's teaching that Tom couldn't teach to himself (or already had). "Actually, I was just thinking to myself how interesting it is…" Despite the minor inner voice that was ardently trying to tell him to stop, he simply couldn't resist: "…how interesting, that everyone has been saying that you're the only one that can stop him…"

"Are you referring to Gellert Grindelwald?" The professor asked him with his typical look of slight amusement.

"Yes. I suppose I have been curious about what it is that you have _actually_ been doing to stop him? After all, the Ministry has put an exorbitant amount of faith in your _grand_ abilities." Tom narrowed his eyes and bitingly added in afterthought, "_Sir_?"

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment, revealing nothing in his calm expression. "I can certainly understand your fears, Mr. Riddle. It is a rather troubling time for many. But you can always be assured that the good will triumph over one man's desperate grasp for power."

"I'm sure," said Tom with a smirk while turning to leave. "Good day, Professor Dumbledore."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled for a moment. "Good day, Mr. Riddle."

* * *

Thanks to Slughorn's incessant attempts at reassuring her that she had indeed gotten the Healer-in-Training position and had nothing to worry about, Rosemary arrived late to the Room of Requirement, where Tom insisted that they all meet in order to maintain the exceptionally confidential nature of that evening's activities. She was so late, in fact, that Tom was already addressing the others: "Grindelwald's followers have probably noticed the missing portkey by now – we will have to be vigilant upon arrival."

Rosemary took great care to be as quiet as possible as she entered, but everyone turned to see who had dared to come in late anyway. The glares fell from many of their faces when they saw that it was her (after all, who would dare to question Tom's girl?) and she glanced up at Tom, who gestured to the empty seat next to Dolohov in the front of the room with a small, satisfied smirk upon his handsome features.

When she was seated, Tom continued in his authoritative tone, "As discussed, we will rendezvous with our allies and depart with the portkey in three groups."

_Our allies._ She was still rather astounded that Raoul and his men were on board will all of this. Then again, it was he who had gotten Tom involved in the first place, she supposed.

"Please refer to Malfoy if you do not recall which group you are in."

Tom, of course, would be in the first group, along with the best duelists of the Knights and Raoul's group. They would make sure the area was clear before Lestrange made a trip back with the portkey to fetch the second group and then the third. Rosemary would be on the second trip, likely due to her lack of dueling prowess, though she wasn't offended. More than anything, she was just excited to go.

But first, they had to get out of Hogwarts. In the end, Tom decided that the thirty-some of them would go in pairs and small groups through the Vanishing Cabinet that led to Borgin and Burke's, a plan which Mr. Burke (in his hatred of Grindelwald and admiration of Tom) had graciously agreed to.

"You are to conjure a mask and maintain it the entire time we are outside of the school. If you allow your identity to be known by anyone we encounter, you will put yourself, your families, and– most importantly– the rest of us in danger. One last reminder: my word is the only one that matters. You do not answer to the Allies' leader. Is all of this understood?"

Voiced affirmation rippled across the room in unison. "Excellent. Then let's get started."

Silence gave way to quiet, excited murmuring as the first few Knights left for the Vanishing Cabinet, led by Dolohov. Rosemary had expected Tom to leave with them, but he strode over to her and bent his neck to give her a kiss on the cheek instead.

"Well?" Tom asked her in a lowered voice, gazing at her in expectant excitement. "How did it go?"

"We'll discuss it later." Honestly, she hadn't expected him to bring up her interview in the midst of everything that was about to happen. And she rather wished he hadn't: the last thing she wanted at the moment was to be reminded of the knots in her stomach which had yet to relax after her interview that morning. She was already nervous enough to be visiting the hideout of the most infamous wizards in recent history; she couldn't even imagine what Tom felt like beneath his cool exterior. Then again, did he _ever_ really get nervous? "Are you ready?"

"Of course." He gave her an assured smile and another kiss, this time on her lips. "I'll see you there."

Tom left with Rosier shortly after and for the next fifteen minutes, Rosemary watched three more pairs and groups of the Knights leave at their appointed time before it was her turn to leave with Carina Bulstrode, Edna Flint, and Jocelyn Zabini.

If there was one failure in Tom's plan, it was this: there was no plausible explanation for Rosemary to be seen anywhere near Bulstrode, Flint, and Zabini, who had been close friends with Olive for years. They _loathed_ her.

"So Rosemary," began Carina as they exited the Room of Requirement. "I've heard rumor after rumor about your revenge on Olive. And I must say – I'm impressed. Using Myrtle to get to her was a nice touch."

Perhaps they…_didn't _loathe her…?

Edna nodded and chimed in. "I always thought that you were all brains without the motivation to put them to good use – I suppose I was entirely wrong."

For a moment, Rosemary suspected that they were trying to trick her into thinking they suddenly liked her. But then she realized that what she did to Olive may have actually garnered her some considerable respect from them, just like it had with Tom's friends. It was rather remarkable (albeit a bit sad) that they were so drawn to power that they were even willing to side against those in their own house to be closer to someone who had more. Then again, that did seem like a _very _Slytherin thing to do. And they were siding against Olive, after all, so she certainly wasn't about to complain.

"My parents will be away once we finish Hogwarts and I was planning a little soiree. You'll come, won't you?" Edna Flint asked her.

"Perhaps," Rosemary gave her a noncommittal shrug, admittedly relishing her newfound popularity, even if her new admirers were not to be trusted. She was truly beginning to understand why Tom was so keen on maintaining his power. "The Continental Wizarding Dueling Tournament begins soon after the end of the term and I will be attending it with Tom, of course."

"What a dream," Jocelyn mused. "I couldn't be more jealous."

Carina snorted, shooting Rosemary a look of mixed envy and admiration. "The entire _school_ couldn't be more bloody jealous."

They reached the Vanishing Cabinet shortly after and, after making sure they weren't being followed or watched, each of them conjured their temporary masks. After a moment of consideration, Rosemary chose a masquerade-esque version that covered half her face.

Soon they were in Knockturn Alley with the others and it was then, while waiting for Lestrange to return to bring them to Grindelwald's outpost, that the feeling of panic truly began to set in. Were they truly prepared enough, even with Raoul's people (some of whom were previous Tournament contestants) to back them? What if a horde of Grindelwald's men were there just waiting for Tom and the others to appear? Could they fight their way out of it? Rosemary tapped her foot against the ground impatiently while contemplating how angry Tom would be if he knew all of the questions flying through her mind.

* * *

"It's Walpurgisnaught. You know – the Walpurgis Night. I reckon that means some sort of good luck for us, don't you?" Malfoy commented as they admired their work and waited for the second group to arrive.

Tom smirked behind his mask. He wasn't one to fancy luck, but it _was _a delightful coincidence.

Around them lay ten of Grindelwald's men – some stunned unconscious, some dead. Indeed, they had noticed the missing portkey and had increased security accordingly. Though apparently not quite enough.

His smirk deepened as the second group arrived with Rosemary among them. She wobbled as the effects of the portkey wore off and he caught her by the wrist as she began glancing around – presumably for him.

Tom could see her eyes widen in surprise behind her mask and she asked him, "How did you know it was me?"

He reached out and lightly tugged the strand of dark red hair that had escaped from the hood of her cloak.

"Ah." She let out a nervous laugh and tucked it back into her braid

Once the third group arrived, they divided into two forces: one that would move west around and up the cliff and one that would travel east. From his scouting that week, he knew that both routes had considerable forest cover and would allow them to get quite close to the tower without being seen. Tom took the east with Rosemary and most of the Knights while Raoul took the others west.

As they entered the woods, the thick canopy overhead blocked out the majority of the moonlight and they lit the tips of their wands to compensate. His nerves were buzzing with excitement and his senses seemed to be working at their full capacity. This was it – the evening he had spent so long planning for. And while he and Tom hadn't been terribly optimistic during their planning that an encounter with Grindelwald would actually occur, Tom felt it now. His instincts told him that this was the night that Grindelwald would be defeated.

_But of course, where was the fun without a few obstacles first? _he thought dryly as a multitude of cloaked figures suddenly stepped out from the trees, surrounding the group.

"You must be the idiotic bastards that decided to steal our portkey," the leader greeted them.

"Excellent powers of deduction," Tom smirked, generally unconcerned by the encounter. The Knights outnumbered their men two to one. "Because you appear to be so clever, why don't you inform me what is going to happen next?"

"I'll tell you what happens next," the leader growled while raising his wand. "You and your friends will be coming with us - without a fight if you'd like to live."

Tom tsked once and sighed. "Wrong. What a shame. _This _is what happens next."

For a fraction of a second, the forest was silent, except for the uneven, startled breathing of the other Knights around him. They were scared, but ready for this nonetheless; he had gone to great lengths to prepare them, after all.

Then the brief silence passed and everything lit up in a blaze of colors: purple, red, yellow, blue, green, pink.

Tom dueled the leader who proved to have considerable abilities, though they failed to come even close to matching his own. No surprise there, really. Afterward, he cursed another of Grindelwald's men that Rosier seemed to be struggling with and spun around to find Rosemary. He spotted her about fifty feet away, handling her duel with a man twice her size quite nicely. For a moment, he couldn't seem to decide whether to stay back and admire her or step in and play the hero.

But just when he decided against interfering, she tripped over a thick root and toppled to the ground, misfiring a jinx that missed her opponent and ricocheted against the nearby trees. Tom immediately sprang into action, throwing several curses over the course of just a few seconds.

Unfortunately, in his urge to defend her he failed to notice before it was too late that someone was also firing curses at _him_. Tom swore as a Splintering Curse struck the back of his lower leg, effectively breaking the bone. He steadied himself against a tree, his teeth gritted in pain, and turned to meet his assailant now that he had bought Rosemary sufficient time to recover.

It took an embarrassing amount of effort (at least in Tom's mind) to defeat the attacker, though this wasn't entirely surprising given his new limitation in mobility. But when he was finally successful by administering the Killing Curse– chosen partly for his impatience in finishing the duel as well as hurt pride over his injury– he glanced around to see the Knights making good progress with the others. Even so, their success came with a few casualties and several of his followers laid unconscious or otherwise injured on the forest floor.

He braced himself against the tree in preparation to help the others finish off the remainder of Grindelwald's men when Rosemary suddenly appeared at his side. "Sit down," she told him hurriedly, eyeing his leg in concern. "I'll fix it before helping the others. Thank you, by the way." She smiled. Then she leaned close to him and effortlessly mended his injury with a complex series of incantations he only half-recalled.

Tom looked up at her in admiration, his mind flooding with the urge to say that same, simple phrase that he had sworn to himself he would keep to himself until he was certain that things between them were stable. But here they were, in the midst of a scene that even a year ago he couldn't have imagined…

_Fuck it._

"I love you," he exhaled, almost in a sigh of relief as he finally satisfied the compulsion that had haunted him for days.

Her smile widened slightly. "I love you too."

Their tender moment was short-lived as Rosemary, with Tom closely behind, soon dashed off to help the others. And soon, the Knights were victorious. Tom did a quick calculation in his head and realized they had taken out nearly twenty of Grindelwald's men since arriving via the portkey - not counting whoever Raoul and the others had run into.

"The edge of the forest is just there, over that hill," Dolohov gestured ahead while they assembled back into their formation and continued toward the prison. "I saw it while chasing down one of the others that tried to run."

"Excellent." He felt a devious grin spread across his face, but it quickly vanished when he realized that anyone in the tower surely could have seen the light of their recent duel from this close. Had they completely lost their advantage of surprise?

But fortunately, when they reached the edge of the forest, nobody was there waiting for them. Nor was there any indication that their presence was known.

Tom's eyes traveled up the tower and squinted at one of the top-most cells of the prison, where a figure stood at the bars of their cell with a smoldering cigarette in hand. Tom snapped his fingers and Dolohov obediently handed over his pair of ominoculars. Tom brought them to his eyes, adjusting the dials on the side, until suddenly he recognized Carl Jennings staring right back at him in his typical, steely gaze...

Well _that_ certainly explained why training for the Tournament had been cancelled for a few weeks. It also told him the real meaning behind what Raoul had told him a two nights prior: "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"It's Jennings," he told Rosemary under his breath.

Her eyes widened in surprise and he handed her the ominoculars to prove what he had seen. "Does this mean he knows about Raoul and MAGI?" she whispered back.

"Apparently."

"_Riddle_," Dolohov hissed sharply. "Look!"

He followed Dolohov's gaze to the top of the prison, where a man with shoulder-length dark blonde hair was pacing about and either muttering angrily to himself or arguing with someone else. He shook his head and came to stand the edge of the tower, a distressed look upon the boyish face that Tom recognized immediately as Gellert Grindelwald's.

Could he hit him with the Killing Curse from here? Probably not. He needed to get closer.

Grindelwald turned away from them once more and Tom was about to give the others a signal to make a run for it across the lawn that led to the tower entrance when a great bolt of lightning suddenly lit up the sky, striking right on top of the tower.

But it _wasn't _lightning, he soon realized – it was the effect of two powerful wands clashing. The duel was unlike anything he had ever witnessed before: incredible power combined with raw, ancient magic. The wind picked up considerably and high above them all, clouds began to spin into the shape of a vortex with its center directly above the tower. Tom was so transfixed by the sight of the duel that his disappointment in the fact that someone had reached Grindelwald before him did not seem to phase him.

From their viewpoint on the ground, they could only see Grindelwald's side of the duel. But the sparks marking where the two spells had crossed paths seemed to be getting closer and closer to him, which meant things were looking quite badly for the wizard so many had claimed to be the darkest of their time.

And then, just as abruptly as it had begun, it was over. Grindelwald fell to his knees, defeated, and the victor strode to the edge of the tower to stand above him. As the sight of the incredible duelist registered, Tom's senses snapped back to him and he felt every cell of his body fill with rage and disbelief.

_Dumbledore._

* * *

"Celebratory drink?" Raoul popped a bottle of champagne and handed Rosemary a flute, while Tom sat motionless, staring out the front window.

Raoul followed her gaze, strode over to Tom, and offered him a glass as well. When he made no gesture to take it, Raoul set it near him on an end table and clapped him on the shoulder. "Cheer up, lad. The important thing is that Grindelwald is defeated, after all."

Tom said nothing; nor was there any indication that he had even heard Raoul, who turned and exchanged a concerned look with Rosemary before attempting once more to evoke a reaction. "Perhaps Dumbledore –"

"Do not say that fucking name to me again," Tom glowered at him, suddenly on his feet.

Raoul snorted a laugh. "Sorry mate, but you'll have to get used to hearing it. He's going to be celebrated for this, you know."

He glared at Beaumont with such rage that the expensive-looking china cabinet behind him promptly burst into flames.

"Tom," Rosemary said sharply, rather terrified by this side of him. She had seen his temper before, but it he had never been anything like this.

"You'll go mad trying to piece it all together," Raoul sighed, extinguishing the fire with a flick of his wand. "Either we were wrong and he was with the Ministry all along or there is something larger to the picture. We should remain skeptical, but it's over, Tom. At least for now. Enjoy it! Surely this means the Tournament is back on. Not to mention the fact that anything MAGI was gaining from this is effectively terminated."

"I could care less about the fucking Tournament! Or MAGI, for that matter!" Tom roared, before he seemed to regain his composure and the tone of his voice fell to a chilling calmness. "Dumbledore has gained something from all this and I plan to find out _precisely _what that is. You may choose whether or not you plan to help; but if not, I strongly advise that you stay out of my way."

With that, Tom promptly left without so much as a glance in Rosemary's direction. She gave Raoul an apologetic look while she slipped on her cloak. "He'll get over it," she told him.

He gave her a short laugh in return. "Oh, I highly doubt that."

By the time she let herself out of Raoul's front door and into the heavy rain that had begun upon their return from the prison, Tom was already halfway down the street, carried by his long, angry strides in the direction opposite that which led back to Diagon Alley.

"Wait!" she called, running briskly after him.

He ignored her and kept walking, but soon she caught up. "Tom..." Rosemary began gently as she jogged to keep pace with him. "Maybe Raoul was right…maybe you need to take a break from all this and come back to it with a fresh mind."

"If you truly believe that, then clearly you don't have the first fucking clue of what you're talking about."

"Now you're just being unkind." She reached out to grab his arm. "Tom – stop."

He did, but the tone of his voice chilled her to her core. "Leave, Rosemary. Now."

"No." Rosemary looked up at him in concern "Where are you going, anyway? Diagon Alley is that way," she gestured in the opposite direction.

"I'm going away," he said simply.

"What does that mean?"

He simply stared at her through his empty, near-black eyes and an awful feeling filled her stomach. Was he actually planning to leave Hogwarts over all of this?

"I'm worried about you, Tom," she told him while fighting the urge to cry, feeling utterly helpless in regard to how she should go about attempting to calm him. "You've been wrapped up in everything for weeks. You should take some time to rest and _then_ come up with a plan for investigating Dumbledore. I'll help you – we'll do it together, Tom."

"I have no need for you to worry about me," he sneered angrily. "Nor do I need your help."

Her eyes burned with tears as her concern for him began to erode into anger. How _dare_ he speak to her like that after everything? "Fine," she told him coldly while turning away from him so he wouldn't witness her crying. "Then I hope you _do_ go away, you prick."

* * *

_"A man's ego is just as fragile as a woman's heart." – Elizabeth Grant_

* * *

**S****o Grindelwald is _finally_ defeated! I told ya big things were happening this chapter.(; **

**Thanks so much to RosiePosie15, slacker4life, alexc123, TigerInTheMoonlight, x2leoj, Lady Ravanna, gr8rockstarrox, Oksanallex, and a guest user for your reviews! Much appreciated! **


	88. Part II - New Resolve

New Resolve

_May 1, 1945_

Tom said nothing as he removed his cloak and dropped it to the floor with a plop, the fibers clogged with water from the downpour he had spent a little over two hours brooding in. Rosemary's eyes glittered back at him through the dark loathingly and he exhaled. He was very much dreading this evening's second blow (though this time self-inflicted) to his delicate ego.

A sickening feeling settled into his stomach while his nerves crawled uncomfortably beneath his skin; only for her was he willing to submit to this torture of admitting his transgressions. "I shouldn't have said those things to you," he told her quietly. "I didn't mean them."

"I know," she sighed into the dark.

Silence fell between them. From the moment she turned away from him and Disapparated, he desperately ached for the comfort that only she could provide him. Tom knew that he wasn't forgiven for his foolish outburst– and that he probably didn't deserve to be, for that matter– but surely it would pass. What he had told her earlier couldn't be further from the truth: he _did_ need her, now more than ever before.

Moments later found him in the bed they shared, clutching her tightly against his body. The absence of her struggle to escape him eased his overall devastation from the evening's events, though only slightly. All the planning– everything he had accomplished– was for nothing. Dumbledore had beaten him to all of it. And then of course was the duel, which he couldn't seem to shake from the forefront of his mind. What he had witnessed was the sort of magic he had believed to exist only through the exaggerated words of legends. The painful realization that he could no longer deny Albus Dumbledore's magical talents was not lost on him.

He pressed his lips to the back of her neck. "Are you still willing to help?"

"Of course." Her voice sounded tired and strained, but Tom didn't have the energy to think much of it. Rosemary was still loyal and that was all that mattered to him for the moment.

* * *

For three nights in a row, an odd dream plagued his sleep. It was nearly identical to the one he experienced two weeks prior, a conversation of sorts. What he could remember of it the following morning was, once again, exceptionally vague. He failed to decipher the faces of the two figures that were speaking; the voices, however, were strikingly familiar. Unfortunately, they seemed to be just beyond his ability to place them:

"_Do you honestly expect me to believe this was all for revenge? That this was all for _her_?"_

"_In the beginning? Certainly."_

Then the words would become garbled, as though he were trying to hear from underwater. But the dream would always end the way it had the first time:

_"You know, I have always seen a bit of myself in you."_

_"We are nothing alike."_

_"Oh, I beg to differ. But if you insist on refusing to take my word on the matter, please allow me to demonstrate..."_

Tom still hadn't a clue what any of it meant; he supposed he could consult Professor Moonfall from Divinations or read up on dream interpretation himself, but with what spare time? He had so much to do and learn before his next opportunity at exposing the truth about Dumbledore. He would not rest while the entire wizarding world stopped to praise the miserable toad for his victory.

It was everything Tom could do to try and escape it. Every time he turned around, it seemed that Dumbledore was being given a new award; his mood was especially soured when he saw a picture of Dumbledore on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_, shaking hands with the Minister for Magic while being presented the Order of Merlin award. There was even talk of establishing the day that Grindelwald was defeated as a bloody holiday. The worst part of all was knowing that all of this glory could have been his if he had only beaten Dumbledore there.

But no matter: he would get his glory. And more of it, too. Until then, he would just have to suffer from the humiliation – though it would be far easier if Dumbledore was not also his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

To escape from it all, Tom spent the entirety of his free time alone in the Room of Requirement. He missed Rosemary's company, but there was no longer time for distractions. Where to begin, though? In what books could he find the sort of magic he had witnessed?

_One thing at a time, _he kept telling himself, consulting the list he had made in his diary last summer and had continued to add to throughout the term. It ranged from learning to control Fiendfyre and Inferi to more general goals, such as discovering a way to increase the overall power delivered in each of his spells.

Tom had a few ideas for the latter, some potions and incantations he had discovered through his studies, but none of them seemed on par with the level of strength he desired. It was then, while he stared down at the words on the page of his most beloved book regarding dark arts, that the ridiculousness of what he was doing occurred to him.

If he ever hoped to be the greatest wizard of the age, even stronger than Grindelwald or Dumbledore were, he would need to extend outside the boundaries of books to find what he was looking for. How was he supposed to get anywhere if he simply relied on the written word of others whose magical talents he planned to surpass?

He needed to travel and actually _visit_ the mythical locations he had read so much about. He needed to experiment with magical items and discover their properties for _himself_. Why should he base his knowledge on the discoveries of previous, less capable minds? He needed to invent his _own_ version of magic, one that would outdo all others and push the boundaries of magical power further than they had ever been pushed before.

Tom enthusiastically got to work upon this exciting realization, resting only to attend classes and eat and sleep occasionally. After a week of this admittedly reclusive behavior, however, he tore himself away from it, knowing it would be unwise for him to neglect his loyal followers for long. Or Rosemary, for that matter.

He caught her by the hand in the corridor after Ancient Runes on Friday and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. "A moment, Miss Horton?" He was pleased that some of his charm had found its way back into his voice over the last couple of days.

"Yes, Tom?" she answered in deceptive sweetness, the undertones of her voice laced with irritation. He assumed it was because she was feeling ignored given his recent preoccupations – surely she wasn't _still _angry with him over his rash actions on that terrible night. Then again, he wondered while his eyes trailed down to the enticing glimpse of cleavage that this angle afforded him, perhaps she was experiencing _another_ type of frustration: the same frustration that had clearly been building latently within him all week, only to be realized with her in such close proximity.

He lowered his voice so the passersby wouldn't hear. "I will be calling a Knights meeting for this evening and I was hoping you might grace us all with your presence."

She smiled at him in a rather forced way and nodded. "I will be there."

"And afterward," he whispered, running his fingers down the side of her arm. "I was hoping to give you a nice, long fuck. Wouldn't you like that, Rosemary?"

"Perhaps another time," she told him crisply, stepping just out of his reach. "I haven't been feeling well lately."

"Sorry to hear," he said in a low voice, trying to hide his disbelief. Rosemary had _snubbed _him? That had never happened, not even when she was with Warren. She must have been feeling neglected after all – either that or playing hard to get.

"Before I forget, Adam and Faye invited us to spend the Hogsmeade trip with them tomorrow. If you are too busy to go, I will plan to go on my own."

"I'll be there," he replied instantly, though he had originally planned to skip the first and last Hogsmeade trip of the year. There. Surely that would win him some points – maybe even enough to change her mind about 'not feeling well'.

"Very well," she pursed her lips and turned away, leaving him as perplexed as ever.

* * *

"_Grindelwald's Defeat Restores Peace to Wizarding World_," he read the featured _Daily Prophet _headline aloud to them later that evening. "Tell me, my friends: what do you think of this?"

"It's complete shit," Lestrange snorted.

Tom smirked. "Precisely. Do not believe this propaganda," he urged them, setting the newspaper on fire with the tip of his wand, "Grindelwald may be out of the way, but let us not forget our true goals. We must press on."

At least he didn't have to worry about dealing with such passively irritated behavior from the Knights; they wouldn't dare to dismiss him as Rosemary had. He watched her leave as soon as the meeting adjourned and in his prideful reluctance to bend over backwards and plead for her forgiveness, he stayed in the Slytherin common room to visit with the others far longer than usual. Surely she wasn't expecting him to make her wait – at least then she would be angry. Anything was better than the awful indifference she had dealt him earlier.

But instead of waiting up for him with a glare, Rosemary was fast asleep (or at least pretending to be) when he returned to their dormitory. It slowly dawned on him then that he had miscalculated and actually punished himself rather than her. Tom cursed as he crawled into bed beside her and found her naked, knowing he would be spending the night with a torturous, raging erection. That settled it, he thought with a sigh: she hated him.

* * *

Rosemary snuck out of bed and dressed before Tom woke up, just like she had done all week. Until his mood over the Grindelwald ordeal settled and she felt comfortable broaching the subject he clearly believed to be resolved, the best thing for her to do was avoid him. He saved her a great deal of effort in this regard given his tendency to keep to himself lately. However, that didn't keep her from wondering where he was sneaking off to. She supposed he was just doing what he needed to stay calm and collected amidst all the celebration of Dumbledore.

But Tom didn't seem depressed or devastated or even concerned since the night of the Great Duel, as it was now being referred to. In fact, he seemed to be in a better mood than he had in a long time and wasn't all that different from the Tom she knew and loved, from what she could tell through the Knights meeting and their limited interactions. But something _was _slightly off; he seemed more intense, somehow…a feat which she wouldn't previously have thought possible.

She watched him sleep and his angry words flooded her mind all over again:

"_I have no need for you to worry about me. Nor do I need your help." _

His might have thought his half-apology was enough to resolve things. But it wasn't enough – not anymore. Things were different now; after all of the things she had done to prove herself to him, it seemed that the least he could do was to stop shutting her out.

"Morning Rose," Faye settled in across from her at the Ravenclaw table that morning and considered her. "Merlin, you have _got _to take care of those split ends. Your hair is too gorgeous for you to let it become all ratty." For the first time in weeks, Faye was truly acting like herself.

"You seem chipper this morning," Rosemary greeted her dryly.

Faye shrugged. "I suppose I've gained a new perspective as of late."

"And that is?"

"Well, now that this ridiculous war is over, everyone will eventually forget about Grindelwald. That means Jasper will be able to come home. You see, I don't care what any of the papers say – Grindelwald's men didn't kill him. I know it. He's still out there hiding, just waiting for the right time."

Rosemary shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Faye was right about one thing: _Grindelwald's _men hadn't killed him. "I hope he comes home soon," she forced herself to say. "I'm sure he will."

"Yes," Faye said resolutely, which made Rose feel even worse. "Did you hear about my row with Becca?"

She nodded. Everyone had. Apparently, Rebecca Orion was far from over Markus and had _finally _worked up the nerve to confront Faye about his expulsion.

"Well after that, and after I realized all of this about Grindelwald and Jasper, I began feeling terribly awful for everything I said about Avery to the Ministry pricks. So much so that I couldn't sleep last night and wrote him with an apology and invitation for him to meet up with us in Hogsmeade this afternoon."

Rosemary smiled. "I'm proud of you Faye." She meant it, too; Faye was almost as bad as Tom when it came to apologies.

"Do you think he'll come? I never received a reply…"

"I'm sure. He's probably desperate to get out of the house and away from his mum."

"She's such a nag," Faye shuddered dramatically before continuing with a smile, "Anyway, I can't wait to see Adam's face – I haven't told him a thing! I invited Becca too – don't give me that look, you don't have to pretend to like her anymore. I just feel a bit obligated…apparently, just before Markus was expelled, they were considering getting back together."

Rosemary rolled her eyes; judging by Markus' promiscuous behavior after their split, she doubted that he felt the same way as Rebecca did. But regardless, Becca's company on their outing was a small price to pay. She looked forward to seeing Markus that afternoon, both because she missed him and because it afforded her another opportunity to skirt by Tom without a confrontation.

The morning post began to arrive and a gray, official-looking owl dropped a letter toward them that landed sticking straight up in Faye's porridge. "Well, maybe Markus _has _replied," Faye smiled while gingerly shaking her breakfast off of the envelope. "From the Office of Healer Blair Caswell McHughes…wait a moment. This is for you!"

Rosemary nodded, unable to breathe or speak. She had recognized the wax seal on the back of the letter as St. Mungo's immediately.

_Oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin…._

"Well what are you waiting for? Open it!" Faye demanded and tossed it across the table to Rose, clapping her hands together in excitement.

Rosemary held the slightly sticky envelope between her fingers and hesitated, wondering if she should wait for Tom. Wouldn't he be upset if she didn't?

_Who cares?_ she snorted internally. She had put his needs first all week.

With this resolve, she hastily broke the seal with her butter knife and pulled out the parchment letter, her fingers shaking. "Tell me what it says – I can't bear to look!" she cried and tossed it back across the table to Faye, who snatched it from her impatiently.

Rose watched as her eyes scanned the page and suddenly, her friend's face fell. "_What_? What does it say?!"

"Well, I'm not sure how to say this…"

She suddenly felt as though she might faint and cry and die all at once.

"I'm joking Rose. Don't be an idiot – of _course_ you got the position."

"You are bloody awful." Rosemary tried to scowl but ended up beaming instead as Faye handed her back the letter and her eyes poured over it:

_Dear Miss Horton,_

_On behalf of Healer-in-Charge Blair C. McHughes, I am pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the Healer-in-Training position in the Phinney Woolsledge Potion Poisonings Ward at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. As you likely know already, this offer is contingent on your achievement of the appropriate N.E.W.T. scores in required courses. _

_If you choose to accept, please sign and return the enclosed offer letter within one week. _

_Best regards,_

_Belinda Balfour_

_Secretary of the Office of Healer Blair C. McHughes_

She smirked at the ridiculousness of the words – as if she would actually have to _choose_ whether or not to accept; she would work for nearly free if she had to. But that apparently wasn't going to be the case, judging from the offer letter: her salary of the five-year contract was set to begin at 8,000 Galleons per year with raises upon completion of each stage of training.

Rosemary read both letters again and again, somehow unable to grasp the reality that what she had wanted so badly was finally _hers_. If she had a quill to sign it right then and there, she would.

"Congratulations, Rosemary," Faye grinned. "I know how badly you wanted this…for whatever reason."

"Thank you," she replied breathlessly, too elated to bother thinking up a retort for Faye's quip.

"When do you start?"

She peered at the offer letter once more. "The second of July, just after graduation."

Faye scowled. "Well, that won't do."

"What are you talking about?"

"My wedding!" the blonde cried. "As maid of honor and my dearest friend, I thought you might be a bit more invested in helping me prepare."

Rosemary rolled her eyes. "I will still have time to help, Faye. How can you possibly have more to prepare, anyway? You've been planning for months!"

She sighed. "One day, when you and Tom are planning your wedding, you'll understand."

The words 'Tom' and 'wedding' in the same sentence gave her an odd feeling. It was inevitable that they would settle down, of course, but at the same time it was rather strange to think of the two of them doing something so normal as a couple. And given her hurt feelings as of late, it seemed even more outlandish to think about. Maybe it was best _not_ to marry someone who could so easily inflict pain on her without thought.

But despite her anger, she was simply too excited to resist sharing the news with him. "Speaking of Tom, I'm going to find him," she announced.

Rosemary moved to leave and promptly froze, noticing Warren towering above her with a sneering look on his face. "Congratulations on the position, Horton."

"Thank you," she replied politely, perplexed at how he had found out already.

"For as long as it lasts, anyway." With one last sneer, he abruptly turned on his heel and headed out of the Great Hall.

"What do you think _that _was supposed to mean?" she asked Faye.

"Not a clue. Mary-Ann Scout was right – he _has_ gone a bit barmy since you broke his heart," the blonde snorted in amusement. "What a shame. He was quite a catch and could have had anyone else if he had been smart enough to leave you alone. Instead, he went and picked a fight with Tom and the way _that_ turned out for him wasn't exactly a surprise." She sighed. "Men and their egos."

"Indeed," Rosemary replied tightly, glancing in the direction that Warren had just departed. "Does anyone in his family work at St. Mungo's?" If anyone would know, it was Faye who had memorized almost every pureblood family tree.

"I believe his uncle might, on his mother's side. Starts with an 'S'…St-

"Stidolph?" Rosemary groaned.

"That sounds right."

"Perfect," she sighed, jumping up from the table to sign and send off her offer letter before Stidolph managed to convince McHughes to revoke it.

But just as she reached the Grand Staircase, Professor Thurston stopped her. "Miss Horton, I was told to inform you that you have a visitor waiting upstairs in Headmaster Dippet's office."

"Who?"

_Please don't be Stidolph or McHughes or anyone from St. Mungo's. Anyone but them._

Professor Thurston smiled obliviously, as though Rosemary would be delighted to hear the news: "Your father."

* * *

_"Panic and terror aren't the only kinds of fear. There are deeper kinds, more terrible kinds. Apprehension and heavy, heavy dread." ― Veronica Roth_

* * *

**Hi all! Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed last chapter: RosiePosie15, MissVolturiKingsFan, x2leoj, calhounariel97, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, Oksanallex, Lady Ravanna, Charlotte Blackwood, Skydoll, marly4077, ecl123, and three guest users!**

**Also, congrats to gr8rockstarrox, who won the quarterly drawing for reviewing TDLR and Charlotte Blackwood's stories, "Unknowns" and "Craving Comfort"!**

**This is a two-part chapter and I'll be updating again either Saturday or Sunday morning! :D**


	89. Part II - The Ultimatum

The Ultimatum

_May 6, 1945_

"Hello, Father." Rosemary entered the room cautiously, as one might approach an untamed animal.

But instead of greeting her with the stern, disapproving look that she anticipated, Basil stepped across the room pulled her into an embrace.

"You hadn't responded to any of our letters for weeks…your mother and I were beginning to worry."

Rosemary was surprised at the lack of anger in his voice. Surely he was here because of Warren or St. Mungo's (most likely both); if he was merely concerned about her lack of reply, he would have just written a staff member to inquire about her wellbeing.

Perhaps he was simply trying to catch her off-guard. But Rosemary had little patience to play games or to allow her father to ruin her mood. It was best to get whatever confrontation they were inevitably going to have over with as soon as possible. "I haven't responded because I have nothing to apologize for," she told him crisply.

The corners of his mouth turned upward into a gentle smile. "Clearly you hadn't read them, Rosemary. If you had, you would know that we forgave you for ending your engagement with Warren weeks ago."

The statement completely blindsided her, so much so that she wished she hadn't burned the letters so that she could have indisputable evidence that he had actually said this to her. "You do?" she asked, unable to hide the disbelief in her voice.

He nodded. "While it was upsetting– especially to your mother– and considerably puzzling at first, it all began to make sense once Dumbledore notified us in regard to how shockingly improper Warren had been acting toward you after you broke off the engagement. It is a shame that I seemed to misjudge his character as well as his motivations…I've revoked his job offer at Comet as a result."

This was perhaps even _more _shocking to hear. As far as she could tell, Warren had been the son that Basil could never have because of her mother's inability to conceive after Rosemary was born.

And then suddenly, Rosemary understood what exactly Warren's comment in the Great Hall had meant. It was revenge: she took Comet from him and he would try and take St. Mungo's from her. But despite her broken friendship with Warren and the bitterness that now lay between them, this news made her feel incredibly guilty – if anyone deserved to work at Comet, it was Warren Cramer. She had broken his heart and cost him his dream career…no wonder he wanted revenge.

"You know about St. Mungo's already, don't you?" she asked Basil.

He nodded with that same, gentle smile. "Yes, it seems that Mr. Cramer made some assumptions about myself as well. What an ignorant prick."

Something in her father had clearly changed; a year before, he never would have admitted how wrong he had been about Warren. _This _was the man she had known as a child, the one she had admired so profoundly.

"Anyway, enough about him…I owe you congratulations, Rosemary."

"Thank you." The pleasantry came off sounding more like a question than truly genuine, as she was still caught up in the shock of it all.

"Though I think I might hold off on telling your mother for now and leave that for the right time. But you should know that above all else, your mother and I want you to be happy. The ending of the war with Grindelwald put things into perspective…it reminded me that family and doing everything we can to preserve it is truly the most important. I always expected something along these lines might happen anyway – you've always been an exceptional witch, you know."

Basil wrapped her in his arms again and suddenly she felt like crying. "I love you, Rosemary."

"I love you too."

After the tension that had existed between them for over a year, she had almost forgotten what it was like before. Sure, she had always been at odds with her mother, but her father used to be her ally (as much as he could while still preserving his marriage, anyway). And now, she felt as though they were on the way to regaining that relationship.

It made her wonder if she should bring up Tom, right then and there. After all, wouldn't her father feel far more deceived if she waited to tell him until the day she and Tom graduated? The thought made her feel incredibly guilty. But even with the regained alliance with her father, she knew there was going to be a line drawn somewhere – certain things would continue to be blatantly unacceptable in his mind and she had a strong feeling that Tom was it. So was it worth it? Should she jeopardize their momentary resolution or just enjoy it while it lasted because she would probably lose her father as soon as she told him anyway?

_Enjoy it,_ she thought sadly, _you have the rest of your life to disappoint them._

* * *

Shortly after seizing a table from a few third-year Gryffindors in the crowded pub, Avery arrived and Lestrange nearly fell out of his chair in surprise. It was obvious that Rosemary was happy to see Avery again as well and for the first time all week, she seemed to be her usual, animated self. But toward Tom, of course, she remained utterly cold and indifferent; she was even interacting more with Rebecca Orion than him.

He sat back in his chair, eying them all broodingly while sipping his glass of scotch perhaps a bit too quickly. It had only been ten minutes and his mood was already soured; why had he even bothered to come? He should have just stayed in and tried the second batch of the Power-Summoning potion he had attempted.

"So what have you been doing with all your free time?" Rosemary asked Markus, who promptly ordered them all a round of Firewhiskey shots while Professor Thurston glanced over at them from a nearby table with a weary expression.

"Nothing, really. My mother is still trying to reform me and telling me I should seek employment, but my father has given up entirely and sees to it that my vault receives its weekly allowance. For the most part, I sleep all day and go out on the town just about every night…Tuesday in Paris, Wednesday in Barcelona, and Thursday back home in London. I swear, I should be thanking you, Faye. Getting expelled is one of the best things that has ever happened to me."

Tom rolled his eyes. _Lazy fuck_.

Avery continued to ramble on about his many conquests, which quickly lost Tom's attention. As he turned it toward Rosemary, he noticed once again that there was something odd in her expressions and the way she refused to glance his way. Though barely perceptible behind her façade of sociability, he knew that she was hiding something from him.

"Markus I've missed you terribly." The shots were delivered and Donohue raised hers while quickly distributing the others. "We should toast: to renewed friendships and to Rosemary, for her upcoming position at St. Mungo's!"

Tom lifted the shot and smirked proudly at Rosemary. Of course, when she told him the news earlier, it came as little surprise. From the moment she informed him of her ambitions to become a Healer, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that she would make it there.

She smiled and turned slightly red, but his stomach fell when, once again, she refused to look his way. When would this torture end? Orion then began to painfully flirt with Avery, twirling her raven-black hair around her finger and letting out a shrieking laugh at just about everything he said.

Of course, his mood continued to worsen through the entirety of the trivial conversation, which he largely removed himself from. Why had she even invited him along if she planned to ignore him the entire time? Was this her way of getting back at him for how preoccupied he had been lately?

There was no way that he had the patience to spend the rest of his afternoon like this. But thankfully, he could see her frustration growing at Orion's obnoxious behavior. Even if she was angry with him, surely it wasn't to the degree that she would rather stay here and witness Orion's desperate attempts at reconciliation. "Let's step outside for a moment," he prompted her after watching her finish her gin martini, tapping her arm with a pack of cigarettes.

"Okay," she agreed quietly after a moment of hesitation and followed him out of the noisy pub.

"Allow me." Tom snapped his fingers and lit the end of the cigarette she had just placed between her two pleasingly shaped lips.

"Thank you."

A silence loomed and he just stared at her, watching her continually fight to avoid his eyes. "You're acting off," he blurted plainly, unable to stand another second of this.

"How so?"

"Well for starters, you have been ignoring me for the last half hour." He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at his face.

"I've just been distracted – I haven't seen Avery for ages, after all..."

He laughed. "You were miserable in there, listening to Orion make a fool of herself. I can tell when you're pretending, Rosemary."

"I'm not pretending," she grumbled.

He gave her an even, knowing look and she was quiet for a few moments, breathing in a long drag from her cigarette. And then: "My father came to visit."

_Oh bollucks._

"What happened?"

"I still can hardly wrap my head around it, but he came to tell me that he and my mother didn't blame me for ending my engagement with Warren. Apparently, Dumbledore informed them about how Warren was acting…My father even decided to renege his job offer for Comet as a result."

Well, what a pleasant surprise – not that it explained why she seemed so upset, of course. Tom raised an eyebrow and smirked. "And what did he have to say about my defending you?"

"He didn't know. Or if he did, he didn't mention anything."

"You didn't tell him?"

"No."

Tom couldn't explain why for the moment, but this rubbed him entirely the wrong way. Still, that wasn't nearly at the moment as important as discovering the reason for her standoffishness. "Did he know about St. Mungo's?"

"Yes – he was very supportive of it, actually."

"Then what is bothering you so much, Rosemary?"

"I'm not _bothered _per se; I've just been thinking."

He wasn't sure what that meant, but the feeling it gave him was _not_ pleasant. "About?"

She sighed. "I dunno…my parents…us."

"Well that clears things up remarkably," Tom told her dryly, the bad feeling beneath his skin quickly becoming worse.

"What do you want me to say, Tom? I'm just not sure about some things right now."

"You're just '_not_ _sure'_," he echoed incredulously, his temper suddenly sparked.

"It's just…after speaking with my father this morning, it appears that I haven't been giving them enough credit. Given the way things have been between us lately, surely you can understand a bit of hesitation."

"And how _exactly_ have things been, Rosemary?" he demanded, the heat rising to his face. "_You _are the one who has been acting differently. Where is this sudden change of heart coming from? Because the last time I checked, you were pretty damned sure you wanted this."

She looked up at him sadly. "You're so quick with your temper, Tom. So quick to say things you don't mean – things that hurt me."

So _that_ was what this was all about: she was still upset over something he hadn't even meant to say to her? "I already apologized," he growled.

"I know. But when my father visited and said all of those things, it made me wonder if it was really a good idea to completely cut my ties with them."

Tom just stared at her for a moment. What on Earth was happening? First the Grindelwald and Dumbledore incident and now this? Was _nothing_ safe and within his control any longer? Just a week ago, he was quite sure that Rosemary would do just about anything he asked her to; he had her full loyalty. "So you wish to have a clean way out, you mean. From me. In case I hurt you again."

"You're twisting my words," she glared at him. "Even ignoring any issues that we have, I'm not sure if I want to lose them. They _are_ my family…and they actually seem to care more than I thought."

In his rage, he sneered at her thoughtlessly once again: "Don't be a fool, Rosemary. Do you _really_ think your parents care about you?"

She just stared back at him for a moment, first appearing shocked, then as though she had been slapped, and lastly, as though she wanted to slap _him._ Her voice chilled him to his core when she finally replied: "Well you certainly know what it's like not to care. You're too good, too strong to _need_ anyone, isn't that right? Then again, maybe you're just a proud fool." With that, she threw her cigarette to the ground and marched away toward the castle.

How could she do this to him? He told her he loved her – didn't that have a shred of meaning?

But he watched her go and his anger quickly melted into panic. She was right, even if he didn't want to admit it. Even more distressing was the truth that occurred to him next: he was losing her.

All of this was larger than his pride; the prospect of things ending between them all over again was unthinkably painful. Every plan that he foresaw in his drive toward greatness now inextricably involved her. Tom knew he couldn't allow himself to lose her, especially not over a few stupid comments he had said blindly out of anger…once again.

Indeed, their argument had sufficiently spooked him, especially in regard to her parents. Though they seemed to be on her side at the moment– surprisingly enough– they would never approve of him being with her. Especially not after Tom's last encounter with her father. As his thoughts grew more paranoid, he wondered if they might even tell her they approved at first so they could manipulate her into leaving him later. Of course, this was a risk he was not willing to take.

How could he fix this? How could he secure things between them, once and for all, and put an end to this madness? There was too much to do, too much he had yet to accomplish, to allow himself to become derailed by another emotional blunder. This needed resolve, and quickly.

He poured over thought after thought in his mind, wondering what lengths he would have to go to in order to win back her affections. It was then that an idea struck him– a risky, quite mad idea that might cost him a great deal of pride– but if it worked as he hoped she would be completely his. For good this time.

And if not? Well…he could always Obliviate her.

* * *

"Wait," Tom caught up to her and grabbed her by the arm. She glared up at him and tried to wrangle herself free from his grasp, in utter disbelief at his gall.

"Haven't you done enough already?" she snapped.

"There is something I need to show you," he told her. "Something that nobody else alive today has gotten the opportunity to see."

"I have no interest in your games at the moment."

"Give me an hour." His grip around her wrist tightened. "An hour, and if you want nothing to do with me after, I promise to leave you alone."

It was a substantial promise, which inevitably made her all the more suspicious of his intentions. "A half hour," she tested him.

"Forty-five minutes."

"Forty."

"Fine. Follow me."

When they arrived at their destination, it seemed quite evident that he had gone entirely mad. She had speculated that he might take her to the Room of Requirement, their spot in the library, or some other place with some sort of meaning, but instead, she found herself in the lavatory Myrtle haunted. Tom stunned Myrtle as soon as they entered, before she even got the chance to catch a glance at her intruders. Then he strode over to a sink that had clearly fallen into disrepair quite some time ago, leaned down, and whispered something indistinguishable.

She gazed on in shock as the circular collection of sinks spread apart to reveal a trap door – or hole, rather. Tom looked down with his hands in his pockets, a rather satisfied expression glazed across his handsome features. Where they were headed next struck her instantly.

It also struck her that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was here, where Myrtle died.

The possibility that Tom had been behind Myrtle's death had occurred to her before, but this all but confirmed it in her mind. She was sure that Hagrid was innocent and had probably just been a sorry bloke that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Of course, if Rosemary was correct, this meant he had killed at least one mudblood before she even knew him.

But either because she had grown so accustomed to the thought of his violent tendencies or because she rather loathed Myrtle, she found herself surprisingly unbothered. And if she was bothered, it was the least of her concerns at the moment, considering that a very upset Tom Riddle was about to take her into the Chamber of Secrets. Perhaps taking him up on his offer had not been such a good idea after all…

Before she had a chance to take her way out of it, however, he grasped her hand and pulled her with him into the entrance. A substantial pile of bones greeted them upon arrival, crunching and snapping under the weight of their bodies. She leapt to her feet, glancing around at her surroundings in disgust when Tom placed his hand over her eyes. "Hagrid's acromantula may be gone, but another beast continues to reside here. Keep your eyes closed."

She could tell from the smirking arrogance in his voice that he knew what she had deduced about Myrtle.

He stepped away from her and she waited impatiently in relative panic for what felt like hours but was probably two minutes. "Tom!" she called, her voice ricocheting off the cavernous walls. Where exactly was he going with this? Was he trying to terrify her into submission in order to get his way? If so, it seemed likely to work…

She jumped as his hand found hers "As the Heir of Slytherin, the Basilisk follows my command without fail. It's safe to open your eyes now – his are closed."

_The Basilisk?_

Until now, she thought this creature only existed in folktales. Her mouth flew open to scream, but he clasped his hand over it. "Don't. You wouldn't want to provoke him, right?"

She nodded and he guided her hand to reach up and touch the beast's slimy, scaly side. Rosemary had never been afraid of snakes but wasn't particularly fond of them, either. The one thing she did appreciate about them was their tendency to keep away spiders…

"It's surprising that Hagrid's Acromantula and the Basilisk could reside in peace," she commented pointedly, running her hand along the side of the fifty-foot-long beast.

Tom's eyes danced with hers and his smirk slowly deepened. "Most curious, isn't it?"

She was beginning to feel nervous again. "Why did you bring me down here, Tom?"

He put his arm around her waist and led her through the Chamber, the Basilisk slithering behind them like some twisted version of a dutiful dog, until they finally reached a long pathway lined with pillars with a massive carving of a man's face she assumed must be Salazar Slytherin. She recognized it immediately as the place he had taken her after the Sweethearts' Ball over a year ago. Now she understood why he had been so insistent that she keep her eyes closed; not only did he want to keep the location of the Chamber undisclosed, the scenery prior to this room left much to be desired.

Tom said something else in Parseltongue and the beast slithered by them to curl up beneath the carving, eyes still closed.

"Have a seat," he told her, gesturing to the ground.

"I'd rather stand," Rosemary said defiantly, eyeing the Basilisk and then quickly looking away from it once more, remembering what a quick blink of its eyes would instantly do to her. "Now tell me: why did you bring me here?"

He squeezed her hand. "Because I want to share things with you, Rosemary – everything. You are the only person that has ever given me that particular urge. Speaking of, I have a bit of a story to share." Tom began pacing in a slow circle around her. "Have I ever told you about the night I met my family?"

She shook her head. "I never knew that you did."

"Two summers ago, I pieced together that I was of the Gaunt lineage, a long line of purebloods. After a bit of research, I found the address of the family home in Little Hangleton. I thought…well, it sounds foolish now, but I thought that I would be going home to a family just like Avery's, Lestrange's…or yours. I thought there _had_ to have been some sort of misunderstanding and that was how I ended up in that dreadful orphanage. Imagine my disappointment when my Uncle Morfin informed me of the truth: that my mother dishonored her family and tainted my blood by marrying a muggle – a muggle that didn't even _want_ her." He paused and shook his head in disgust. "My father was from the village and it just so happened that he still lived there with my grandparents. So I decided to pay them a little visit."

Rose felt awful, not to mention at a loss for what to say. She couldn't imagine how Tom, with his unbeatable arrogance, had handled the news that he was a half-blood – one from an illegitimate marriage at that.

"I killed them all, Rosemary: my father, my grandfather and grandmother, and I my Uncle Morfin rots in Azkaban for the charge. I did it without thought - without a shred of guilt. Even if I had the chance to go back and react differently, I wouldn't. In that moment, I had a decision to make and I chose to start anew. I swore to myself that I would realize my rightful pureblood status and dispose of all traces of those whose mistakes had previously defined me."

Despite her horror at his confession, it clarified so much about him. Being born a half-blood, she now realized, had never been the path he was destined for. His need to fight against the unfortunate reality was not only understandable – it felt justified. He had been slighted, cheated out of the life he was meant for by his own mother.

Rosemary didn't bother to ask why he hadn't told her sooner; she knew she wouldn't have understood early on. Until recently, she didn't know him well enough to have the capacity to.

"At any rate, this is all to say that I never had a family so I suppose I cannot understand your wish to continue including them in your life, especially considering the number of times they chose to stand in the way of what you want." He placed his hand on her cheek. "The truth of the matter is that I'm _certain_ your parents care about you – who would be fool enough not to?"

"Then why did you say all of those things earlier? And being angry is _not_ an acceptable answer." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"The way you were talking…well, it concerned me."

"Concerned in what way, exactly?"

"If you fail to cut the ties with your parents, they will inevitably try to come between us. And I trust you, Rosemary. You proved it once and for all on the night we went after Grindelwald, when you stood by me in a duel, healed the Knights and my injuries, and were still willing to help me after the cruel things I had said to you. But if you question things between us after one conversation with your father, what will happen after years of them? There will come a day when I will no longer be able to trust you…and that is not a reality that I am particularly comfortable with. In fact, I cannot even consider it as an option." He kissed her cheek. "I love you, Rosemary. But I need to trust you entirely and for that to happen, you will need to choose: your parents or me."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head. "There is no other way. But before you make your choice– and you won't hear me admit this often– I was wrong that night. I _do_ need you. And I am sorry, truly sorry to have hurt you. Rosemary, this is your choice but you know just as well as I do that there is only one right answer.

She suddenly felt as though she might cry, knowing how difficult all of this was for him to say. As soon as he finished speaking, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled herself against him, feeling all her bitterness from the week prior fading away into nothingness. It was then that she finally understood: just as he brought darkness to her, she brought light to him. He _did_ need her. They balanced each other.

* * *

She gazed at him for a long time before finally saying, "Promise me, then. Promise me that you will stop keeping secrets, pulling away from me when something awful happens, and saying cruel things you do not mean whenever you are angry. Promise you will not forget that you need me."

He swallowed and nodded. "I promise."

A shadow of distrust passed over her features as though she believed these promises too good to be true. But he was so close and after all of this effort, all of the pride he had sacrificed, he could not afford to lose her now. His plan to win his way back into her favor had worked marvelously so far; there was only one thing left to do.

In one last show of grand, ego-leeching devotion, he fell to his knees before her, his heart beating like a caged animal against his ribs. "But in return, promise me that you'll be mine and mine alone – forever. Marry me."

* * *

"_I am because you are…you are, I am, we are, and through love I will be, you will be, we will be." – Pablo Neruda_

* * *

**Thanks so much to everyone for reading and to RainbowKitteh13, broslyn137, MissVolturiKingsFan, slacker4life, x2leoj, alexc123, and Oksanallex for taking the time to review as well! **

**We are quickly approaching the end of Part II! Any thoughts or predictions? **


	90. Part II - Moving On

Moving On

_June 13, 1945_

Rosemary was surveying the bright green lawn in an attempt to find a nice piece of shade when she spotted Faye waving her over near the shore of the Black Lake, where several Gryffindor boys were taking turns diving off the docks to impress the girls who had rolled up the hemline of their skirts to sun their legs. Meanwhile, fairies skated along the water in synchronization, creating wondrous, swirly patterns. Summer seemed to be in full swing and tomorrow, she would graduate from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Nearly a month had passed since Tom Riddle proposed to her in the Chamber of Secrets.

"What an honor it is to receive a visit from the living dead!" Faye beamed up at her while shielding her squinting blue eyes from the sun.

Rose took a seat next to Faye, resting her back against the tree that blanketed them with shade. "Hilarious," she grumbled, even though the blonde had a point. She _had_ been busy training the new Head Boy and Girl for the majority of this week and had locked herself away to study incessantly for N.E.W.T.s the entire week prior. But who could blame her? The stakes were higher than ever, as Rosemary had every intention of keeping her future place at St. Mungo's and she was terrified to receive her scores the following morning. "Where's Adam?" she asked, eager to change the subject.

"He snuck out of the school to fetch Markus and gather some _supplies_ for the bash this evening. You're coming, aren't you? It's our last Slytherin party at Hogwarts, after all!"

"Maybe," Rose shrugged noncommittally, if only to get a rise out of Faye.

Indeed, Faye gave her a look of stark disapproval. "Well I can assure you that you'll be missing out on a fabulous time if you don't go. I just thought it would be nice, after everything that's happened, to have the four of us back together again: you, Markus, Adam, and I…for old times' sake. You won't even have to listen to Becca try to get into Markus' trousers now that she's engaged to Gil Pollack." She made a dramatic, fake-gagging motion.

"Better her than me," Rosemary shuddered, remembering the rather handsome but overwhelmingly creepy Ministry bloke that had caught the eye of many girls in her year during Apparition lessons – the very same Gil Pollack that her father had tried to set her up with at Comet and might have succeeded if Warren wasn't there to save her. Then again, she thought bitterly, after all the trouble Warren had caused her, 'saving her' seemed a bit of an overstatement. She left the thought at that, before her guilt had the chance to begin to sink in all over again.

"I'm glad that you and Adam finally resolved things."

"Well, the wedding would have been incredibly awkward if we hadn't."

"You still would have married him, even if things didn't improve?"

Faye laughed. "Of course! We don't _all_ possess your audacity. Although, if that Healer friend of yours happened to be single and looking…"

Rosemary eyed her warningly. "He's my _boss_, not my friend. And if you do anything to jeopardize my position at St. Mungo's, I swear to Merlin–"

"Bloody fucking hell, Rose," Faye laughed again, "It was a joke. Calm down…you're starting to sound like…" She stopped abruptly midsentence.

"Like who?" Rosemary pressed expectantly.

"You know who." Faye nodded in the direction of the school, where Tom Riddle had just emerged with his typical band of Slytherins, casting his tall, imposing shadow on the edge of the lawn.

Almost magnetically, his eyes found hers and she unconsciously reached for the thin, gold chain around her neck, sliding it through her fingertips until she arrived at the dangling trinket it carried. She pressed the black stone of the ring softly to her lips and smiled back at her ambitious, charming, addicting, and incredibly dangerous fiancé.

* * *

It had certainly been a busy few weeks in Tom's world after his proposal to Rosemary, which spread like wildfire throughout the school; never before had he seen so many of his female peers sulking through the halls. He couldn't help but watch in arrogant satisfaction every time they eyed his family's ring around her neck with such discernable envy. He had won, after all; this time for good.

He could hardly believe that, in just one day, he would no longer be a student. The thought of leaving Hogwarts behind was admittedly startling, both because it had become his home and because he felt that there was still so much to be done. What about all of the castle's secrets that he had yet to discover? What about the Knights; wouldn't they fall apart without him here to lead?

To console himself, he continually reminded himself of the opportunities that would present themselves upon graduation: a fresh start with Rosemary, the freedom to improve upon his magical talents however he saw fit, the Tournament…But then, during a recent visit with Raoul (which went quite awkwardly, given their last encounter), he was notified that the Tournament had been rescheduled to September in order to allow the contestants who had dropped out as Grindelwald gained power to rejoin the competition and bring their training back up to par.

In addition to being incredibly frustrating, this news brought some concerning questions to mind. He had been planning to have the money from the Tournament to start his and Rosemary's new life – but now what? Given his demonstrable talent, top marks, position as Head Boy, and ability to present a glowing recommendation from all but one Hogwarts professor, Tom had received a multitude of prestigious offers already.

But what did _he _want?

There was no way that he had the patience to deal with the bureaucratic nonsense of the Ministry – that much was for sure. More than anything, he wanted to enjoy his newfound freedom after leaving Hogwarts and focus wholly on improving his magic. But there was a certain reality he had signed up for in his proposal to Rosemary; given her upbringing, she was bound to have at least some expectations and he certainly wasn't going to disappoint. At least he knew Borgin and Burke's would hire him back in an instant while figured it all out.

He supposed that in an ideal world, there would exist a position that allowed him to travel the world and gain knowledge to improve his magical capabilities while also getting paid.

Oh wait – there was:

_Greetings (again) Riddle,_

_Have you had given MAGI's offer any thought? Like I mentioned previously, I'd be happy to meet up for lunch one of these days and discuss the specifics of the position. May I also remind you that it begins at a healthy 10,000 Galleons annually? Of course, there are other benefits of working at MAGI…_

That morning, Tom had received his fourth letter from Davor Bukowsky, the MAGI associate he had met at the career fair that spring. MAGI's insistence to hire him would have made him rather suspicious if it wasn't for his arrogance and the fact that all the other offer letters he had received were of similar tone. But in reality, he was finding it rather difficult to restrain himself from jumping at the offer; the only thing that truly held him back was the knowledge that Dumbledore had an association with the company. And with time passing and his impatience to gain some sort of advantage over Dumbledore growing, this was beginning to look like more of a pro instead of a con.

* * *

Well, Faye was certainly right about one thing; the Slytherin party did _not_ disappoint. The basics had certainly been covered – there was a full bar with so much champagne that nearly everyone attending could have their own bottles, dancing, snogging, and plenty of party favors being passed around for the daring few. They had even hired a slew of Hogwarts' house-elves to serve drinks and prepare a nice spread, paying several Galleons to each elf to keep their mouths shut about it. But it went a step further, as well. The room was plastered in dark green and silver decorations, with several lines of fairies providing a dim glow. In homage to their house symbol, about ten serpents of different types had been released (to Faye's horror) and could be found slithering around the outskirts of the room, most often in Tom's direction. But despite the Slytherin-proud theme, the attendees included several students of other houses (so long as they were of pureblood lineage). Indeed, it seemed that anybody who was _anybody_ in the school had shown up – even the Bloody Baron had made a short appearance.

After a few drinks and one dance with a begrudging Tom, Rosemary curled herself up on a couch at the edge of the room and peered into the crowd. She watched Markus charm his way into snogging a fourth-year. Toward the bar, Faye was putting on her usual show of amicability with Becca, who were friends again if only for the evening.

It was all so fake and forced, she thought pessimistically. While she had made plenty of nice memories at functions such as these over the years, she couldn't help but be rather happy that this was probably her last. Pretending had always been so tiring and with Tom, there was no need for it. He had seen her for who she was, not who she was supposed to be.

A black and white striped snake curled around her ankle and looked up at her with curious eyes and she gently reached for it, smiling at the way it immediately coiled around her wrist. It inevitably reminded her of the Basilisk, the beast which Tom could apparently control with only a hiss of Parseltongue. Although she had witnessed it with her own eyes, their entire trip to the Chamber of Secrets felt so surreal (even if it _had_ been her second time) and she was still trying to wrap her head around what she now knew about Myrtle and Tom's family.

Surreal. That was certainly _one_ way to put it.

But all of it was just like Tom: shrouded in mystery, so much so that she felt rather honored to know as much about him as she did. Especially as she overheard his nearby conversation with Dolohov, Malfoy, Brocklehurst, and several more of the Knights, all of whom seemed hang on to his every word.

"Dolohov will be leading our meetings in my absence," she heard him say. "However, I plan to make regular trips to Hogwarts as my schedule allows. You all have much to learn in the Dark Arts, thanks to the school's flawed curriculum and I do feel at least somewhat responsible in providing you with the knowledge to make up for these deficiencies."

Indeed, watching him was almost like watching a king address his subjects – the only difference was that he had earned his throne with intelligence and charisma rather than birthright. He had accomplished an undeniably impressive feat in convincing each of these pureblood royals that his power was far greater than theirs.

"Hello Rosemary," a voice interrupted her thoughts of admiration. "May I have a word with you?"

It took a moment to register that the polite voice addressing her was _actually_ Olive Hornby. What was this, some sort of joke?

"I hope you don't mind if I sit," Olive said to Rosemary's silence, while sliding onto the couch almost cautiously. And for good reason – Rose _had _administered the Cruciatus during their last encounter.

"What do you want, Hornby? I thought I made myself clear that you were to stay far, far away." Rosemary wished briefly that Tom had taught her the Parseltongue word for 'attack', so the snake she held in her arms could bite the tip off of Olive's pointed nose the moment this conversation took its foreseeable turn south.

"Well, that's sort of what I was hoping to discuss with you." She tossed a wall of shiny, pin-straight blonde hair over her shoulder. "I – erm…I was hoping, since we're about to leave Hogwarts and all, that we could put our differences behind us."

"I think it's a little late for that." Rose scoffed before glancing over Olive's shoulder at Markus and Adam in disbelief. Had they drugged Hornby's drink as one last prank?

"Perhaps. But I thought it would be best as we'll certainly be seeing more of each other now." Olive sighed, looking rather miserable all of a sudden. "I have yet to tell anyone this, but I was recently promised to Randolph Keitch."

Rosemary forced herself to keep a straight face, but was laughing her arse off internally. Keitch, her father's business partner, was quite possibly the most impolite, lazy, and ugly man she had ever met. "Congratulations. You two will make a fine pair," Rosemary said with a slight air of amusement. "I can't imagine a better match for him."

Olive tossed her a glare that surprisingly broke into a short, tense laugh. "At least he's rich. Anyway, I was hoping you could tell me at least a few of the goings on at Comet so I'll have _something _to talk about with him."

"That bad, huh?" Rosemary said in mock sympathy.

"Please, Horton. I'll owe you."

"You already owe me for everything you did to Faye, your pathetic efforts to steal Tom away…Need I say more?"

Olive sighed. "I know. It's just…you have everything. You've always been with the best boys of our year, had the richest parents, the list goes on…"

"I suppose it is good for the conscience to help those less fortunate now and again," she said arrogantly with a slight sneer. "But you definitely will owe me, Hornby. Big time."

Even though she would soon lose some of that 'everything', there was no reason for Olive to know it. After all, jealousy was far more useful than sympathy. Faye was right: she _was _beginning to sound a bit like Tom.

* * *

"You are one lucky bastard." Faye clinked her glass against his, interrupting him from his persisting thoughts about the letter from MAGI he had received in the post that morning.

Tom was _so_ not going to miss these trivial encounters.

"It feels like just yesterday I was warning Rosemary that she shouldn't even be _talking_ to you. And now here we are..."

"If there is a point to this, please make it," he sighed in exasperation.

"My point is that _somehow_ you make Rosemary incredibly happy. So happy that she's going to spoil things with her parents forever to be with you. But Riddle…and trust me when I say that I mean this: if you aren't good to her, I swear I'll slit your throat."

Tom eyed her warningly. "And if you imply that I won't treat her well one more time, then I'll slit yours."

"Deal," she beamed and then, to his utmost horror, gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Good luck. With Basil, and everything."

Faye had always had too much nerve for her own good. In automatic revenge, he used a spell to pull the rug out from under her feet as she strode away, causing her to fall flat on her face and spill the majority of her drink down the front of her dress.

Markus helped her to her feet and she casted a drying charm on herself before giving Tom the finger and mouthing '_Fair enough, you arse'._

* * *

"I received another offer from MAGI today," Tom told her suddenly while watching her slip out of her robes late that evening, after the party's conclusion. "This time I'm considering it."

She froze. "_What_?" Had he gone _completely _mental?

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Why not? It's everything I want in a job and it pays well."

"But what about Raoul? What does he think about it?"

He rolled his eyes and sneered, "I do not give a damn about what Raoul thinks."

Clearly, he was still bitter toward the sponsor after the night of Grindelwald and Dumbledore's duel. "But don't you think this could all be some sort of trap? Surely MAGI knows of your involvement with Raoul through the Tournament."

"He was there ages ago. I highly doubt that anyone working there now has ever so much as heard Raoul Beaumont's name. If there are, they are very few; his story isn't something they would voluntarily spread around, after all. In their minds, they paid him off years ago and the issue is long over."

She sighed and moved to sit behind him on the bed and rub his shoulders. "I just have an awful feeling about it all. Besides, you shouldn't worry so much about money…I'll be making plenty once I start at St. Mungo's…and I have more than enough in my savings vault as well." Rosemary cursed herself as soon as these words came out of her mouth, knowing precisely how he would respond.

Indeed, Tom tossed her a deathly glare over his shoulder. "We have no need for your _parents' _money."

She said nothing and rested her forehead against his upper back. The mention of her family brought several emotions Rose had been so desperately trying to ignore to the surface. While certain she had made the right choice and that Tom loved her more than they ever had or could, she was nevertheless terrified at the prospect of the encounter. The encounter which, despite all of her pleas to any higher power that could slow down time, was going to happen tomorrow evening.

"Anyway," Tom began again after a long silence. "I thought you should know."

"Thank you for telling me," she replied shortly, placing her lips to the back of his neck, "But I still think it's an awful idea."

"Your opinion has been noted."

She was tempted to continue arguing with him over it, but knew another opportunity to do so would present itself later. It was their last night in Hogwarts, after all; they may as well enjoy it.

"Besides," Rosemary began as she kissed down his neck and around to his jawline, "If you were gone all the time on these trips, what would I do with myself?" She felt the muscles in his back relax somewhat. A small smile appeared on her face; knowing that she had the power to calm him was one of the most satisfying feelings. She hopped off the bed and stood before him, loosening his tie as she pressed her lips against his.

"Fair point," he acknowledged with a smirk between kisses. "I surely wouldn't want you to be lonely."

His hands roamed down her body, just brushing the sides of her breasts, trailing across her navel to her lower back, arse, and outer thighs. He was taking his time, which felt delightful and incredibly intimate; usually their foreplay was so rushed and short-lived in their franticness to be as close as close could get, but this time it was impressively slow and controlled. Clearly, Tom wanted the night to last just as long as she did.

She kissed him again deeply, moaning into his mouth as his fingers gently rubbed her inner thigh. His lips broke away from hers and bent his neck, his tongue suddenly flicking across her hardened nipples while his fingers performed their usual, electrifying ministrations. Rosemary arched her back in pleasure and reached down to unbutton his trousers, releasing his hardened shaft. She gripped him gently and began stroking in reciprocation. Tom responded to the pleasure by hungrily teasing her nipples between his teeth while one of his long fingers traveled the length of her slit. Rose involuntarily moaned again as it danced around her sensitive peak and he gazed up at her lustfully with his near-black eyes, framed with long, dark lashes.

Without warning, he shed the last of his remaining clothes and pulled her onto to the bed, sending them both crashing against the pillows. She laid on her back and he on his side, facing her, his hot breath warming her ear. "So beautiful." he mused quietly while caressing her curves all over again. Although she was wholly enjoying his slow, sensual pace, her body was already aching for his – so much so that she wasn't sure how much more of this she could take. While his fingers traced the folds of her womanhood, she began stroking him once more, hoping to tempt him into giving her what she so desired. She gasped his name as he pressed a finger into her, skillfully probing her soaking insides.

Her body squirmed uncontrollably as he pleasured her and she stroked his length faster. "Please, Tom," she tried to conjure her most seductive voice. "I want you." When nothing happened, she realized he was looking for more and changed her strategy accordingly: "I _need_ you."

Without hesitation, he rolled on top of her, positioning himself between her legs, and pressed the tip of his member against her opening. Rosemary closed her eyes, feeling herself take more and more of him with each thrust. Their breathing became heavy and they fell into a divine rhythm. Even though they had fucked at least a hundred times before this, it never seemed to lose its allure; this was one of the few things they could share with each other and nobody else. And perhaps just as importantly, it was when she felt the safest.

"Oh, Tom…I love you," she moaned as she reached her long-awaited climax, relishing the feeling of contracting around his exceptionally hard member. Shortly after, Rose felt him tense and groan into his final release as well, filling her with sublime warmth.

After collapsing beside her and allowing their breathing to recover for a moment, Tom reached for the ring she wore around her neck and held it up to the light, his face pensive.

"I'm going to give you everything, Rosemary," he said finally. "Everything you've ever wanted and more."

She smiled and ran a hand gently across his cheek, trying not to think of what awaited them tomorrow. "You already have."

* * *

"_They were still in the happier stage of love. They were full of brave illusions about each other, tremendous illusions, so that the communion of self with self seemed to be on a plane where no other human relations mattered."__ – F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

**Thanks so much to Oksanallex, MissVolturiKingsfan, AmandaNeko21, RainbowKitteh13, calhounariel97, TigerInTheMoonlight, hypocriticalcommunistfromspace, alexc123, x2leoj, Bloome, Blerb, Lady Ravanna, lizzzsunshine, Charlotte Blackwood, slacker4life, marly4077, Ria, AraelDranoth, and five guest users for your reviews! I know this chapter was a bit slow, but there were a lot of things to tie together before they leave Hogwarts! Next chapter will be the end-of-term feast and Rosemary's dreaded confrontation with Basil and Evelyn. :D **

**Thanks for reading!**


	91. Part II - Graduation

Graduation

_June 15, 1945_

Tom woke with a start, feeling utterly lost as the same, perplexing dream he'd been having sporadically for the past two months released its eerie hold on his consciousness once again. He jumped out of bed, careful not to wake Rosemary (though such a feat was damned near impossible anyway), and retrieved his diary from where it hid beneath the ashes of their fireplace, its tender pages protected by a Shielding Charm. His hand darted frantically across the page as he jotted down everything he managed to remember.

_Well, how incredibly helpful: now we know it was raining in the scene. Excellent work, really excellent…_

Tom glared at the cheeky reply near the bottom of the page, which appeared shortly after he finished his report.

_It is not for want of trying, _he wrote back. Indeed, over the last few weeks he had tried everything he could think of to elucidate the contents of the dream from wherever in his subconscious it was surely trapped: advanced Divination techniques, memory-enhancing charms, potions…but nothing had helped.

'_Trying' is a subjective term, especially now that you seem to find the Horton girl more important than any other bloody thing._

Tom rolled his eyes and closed the diary. The memory of his fifth-year self seemed incapable of seeing Rosemary as anything more than a nuisance and distraction to their future pursuits; it absolutely loathed her. It often made him wonder what would have happened if he hadn't erased his memory and that darkness from himself, though the answer was obvious: the perplexing, exhilarating event of Rosemary would have never happened to him. He felt the diary burning angrily in his hand as he returned it to its hiding place.

Though rather defeated with this most recent attempt to piece together the dream, he was now wide awake. A glance at the tall, antique wooden clock in the corner of the dormitory told him it was four in the morning – there was just enough time to have one last stroll around Hogwarts before meeting Slughorn at seven.

Tom visited the library first and carefully surveyed the restricted section for any titles he may have previously missed. Unsurprisingly, there weren't any. But for the sake of reading in his favorite chair for the last time, he picked out a book at random and made his way to the private study room in which he had spent hundreds of hours during his career at Hogwarts. This place had been his primary refuge as a younger student, given that it was one of the few places he could escape his irritating dormmates and bask in the silence.

After the library he visited the Room of Requirement, the place where he had spent just as much time exploring the Room of Hidden Things and the dark arts. And more recently, where he taught Rosemary to duel and use the Cruciatus – accompanied by a good bit of snogging, of course. It was right about then that the odd ache of reminiscence appeared. Hogwarts was the closest thing he had ever had to a home and it was difficult to imagine himself anywhere else.

As he continued his rounds through the school, Tom ran into the caretaker several times but didn't receive the scolding about being out during curfew hours that any other Hogwarts student would have; nobody asked questions of him here. Hogwarts was more than his home – it was something he controlled (at least to some degree). And it was daunting to think that he would soon be giving that up for the unpredictability of the real world and all of its challenges.

But he was ready. It was time to move on from Hogwarts and away from Albus Dumbledore's close watch and seemingly endless influence. Only outside of these walls could Tom become unstoppable.

"Ah, good to see you Tom. Come in, my boy!" Slughorn greeted him cheerily when he arrived at the Potion Master's office.

Tom settled into the chair across from Slughorn's desk and glanced up, realizing in sudden horror that the professor's eyes were half-filled with tears and his pudgy face slightly reddened. "Merlin's beard – this is it, isn't it? Your last day at Hogwarts. I'm proud of you, Tom. So _incredibly _proud of you."

"Thank you, Sir," he replied rather awkwardly, unsure about what quite to say. It seemed a tad ironic that Slughorn seemed far more sentimental about the whole thing than he did, after all.

But thankfully for Tom's lack of emotional intuition, Slughorn seemed to pull himself together and said, "I'm glad you were able to stop in and visit, though I find it regrettable that we didn't see each other more often this term for my usual dinner parties. With the curfew rules and all… well, Hogwarts really wasn't the same at all, was it?"

"It's quite all right, Professor," Tom said politely, though he _had_ enjoyed Slug Club immensely as an opportunity to make connections with the often prestigious guests and showcase his superiority over his peers.

"Even today, having the End-of-Term Feast at breakfast-time…it seems like an abomination after all of these years." Slughorn shook his head and then let out a short chuckle. "We get set in our ways, I suppose."

"I suppose so, Sir." Tom forced a smile. Of course, the entire reason for condensing the last day of the term was because the school's most prized faculty member, Albus Dumbledore, had yet another award ceremony to attend that evening – this time internationally. Bloody fucking ridiculous.

"The next Defense Against the Dark Arts professor will certainly have large shoes to fill – or slippers, rather, since we're talking about Albus."

_That_ certainly caught his attention. "How do you mean, Professor?"

"I suppose I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but Gunnilda's health has been deteriorating for a while. Her appointment to Transfiguration was only temporary, after all, to facilitate Dumbledore's switch to Defense Against the Dark Arts as per Dippet's request. But there has been talk that he will be resuming his old post and that Dippet is going to begin scouting for a new Defense professor to begin next term."

The gears in Tom's mind began to turn. As much as he had felt himself leaning toward MAGI's offer, this bit of news made him wonder if his efforts would be better spent here at Hogwarts. There were several benefits to securing a teaching position, after all: Rosemary would be pleased that he wasn't pursuing MAGI, he would have direct control over the curriculum he taught, he could continue to keep a close watch on the Knights and Dumbledore…not to mention how satisfying it would surely be to land the position in the first place, making him the youngest Hogwarts professor to date.

"Well, that is…quite interesting," he replied, careful to keep his internal smirk from showing.

Though apparently the possibility of Tom applying for the Defense post hadn't even crossed Slughorn's mind. "Have you decided which position you will be accepting from the multitude you've undoubtedly been offered?" the professor continued on.

"Not yet..." Tom admitted.

"Well do let me know what you decide; I am very eager to see where you choose to dedicate your talents, Tom. I understand that you might have a lot on your plate at this particular moment…"

It was a reference to Rosemary and the upcoming confrontation with her parents, no doubt. Tom knew he should be dreading it based on how nervous and antsy she had been the last few days, but he simply couldn't bring himself to. That evening, she would prove herself his once and for all. He wasn't _apprehensive_ – he was floored.

"Have you set a date yet?" Slughorn asked suddenly, banishing any doubt that his comment had been about the Horton's.

"No," Tom said charmingly, "But you'll be sure to receive an invitation when we do."

Slughorn smiled in his typical, jolly way. "Nothing would please me more."

Although Tom found the professor to be an exceptional sap, a quality which he adamantly believed he could not relate to in the slightest, Slughorn had easily been the most supportive of him during his time at Hogwarts. While Dumbledore sent him suspicious stares, the Potions Master had built up Tom's ego and encouraged his educational pursuits with few bounds. And for that, he was truly grateful for one of the first times in his life.

* * *

"Our N.E.W.T. results came while you were out," Rosemary scrambled to her feet as soon as Tom let himself into the dormitory. "I've been waiting for you so we can open them at the same time."

Tom took his envelope from her outstretched hand and gazed at it in an inexplicably calm manner.

"Ready?"

She was shaking as he gave her a simple nod. How in the _world_ was he so calm?

"On three, then," she sighed. "One…two…three!" Rosemary ripped open the envelope and scanned the page, her heart dropping immediately as she saw the 'E' next to Defense Against the Dark Arts and Ancient Runes.

A quick glance up at the smirk on Tom's face told her that, as expected, he had received all 'O's. Rosemary knew she should be proud and happy for him, but instead she felt the sharp twinge of jealousy; she had studied just as much as he did, if not more.

"How did you do?" he asked finally.

"Fine," she replied, trying desperately to hide the sudden sharpness in her voice as she resumed packing her things once more. "And you?"

"I'm pleased." The arrogance in his voice itched at her.

"Good for you," she snapped automatically.

He raised an eyebrow. "And I take it you are_ not_ pleased with your results?"

Rosemary didn't answer, trying to focus instead on levitating a sizable stack of clothes into her trunk. They all fell to the floor, however, when she saw Tom reaching for the envelope containing her marks that she had placed on the bed. "Stop!" she commanded him.

But it was too late. Rosemary sent him a harsh glare and turned away to collect her scattered clothing.

"They are still impressive marks," he said gently.

She sent him another glowering look. "Don't patronize me. If it were the other way around you'd pitch a fit for a week."

Then she held her breath, waiting for the retaliation that was sure to come. But instead, he crouched down next to her and ran his hand down her hair, resting it at the top of her back before softly kissing the top of her head and leaving her to begin packing his own things.

His response shook her. Not long ago, he probably would have snapped right back at her without a moment's hesitation, allowing his temper to unfurl. But everything seemed to change after she accepted his proposal and promised to burn all bridges with her family. _He _had changed…and this simple demonstration was all she needed to reassure herself of her decision.

She just hoped that, when the time came that evening, she would have the strength to do what she needed to.

* * *

Dippet cleared his throat as the last of the students filed into the Great Hall and took their seats. "Before we announce the House Cup, there are two awards that I would like to present. The first is the Medal for Magical Merit, which is awarded based on outstanding academic performance. This year, the recipient also competed in the International Continental Wizarding Dueling Tournament and diligently served the school as Head Boy…Congratulations, to Mr. Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Faye elbowed Rosemary's side excitedly, startling her out of her second rush of jealousy that day. As Tom accepted the award, he was met with applause that ranged from enthusiastic at the Slytherin table to lukewarm at Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff to practically nonexistent from the Gryffindors. Rosemary suspected this had something to do with the fact that Tom had taken points from the house in so many creative, though obviously intentional ways throughout the year that Gryffindor was sporting a point value lower than they had in over a hundred years, when Norvin the Nuisance was still attending the school.

"Our next award is one that I hope you _all_ will strive for upon finishing your education at Hogwarts: the Distinguished Alumni Award. For his tireless efforts to ensure the safety of the school as well as his recent victory against the Dark Wizard Grindelwald, a duel that will undoubtedly go down in history as one of the greatest, I am sure that it will come as no surprise that Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore deserves this award."

Rosemary clapped along with the school and tried to spot Tom across the room at the Slytherin table; she could only imagine what was going on in his mind at that particular moment.

* * *

Tom screamed internally as Dumbledore shook Dippet's hand and accepted the award.

_Stupid fucking Dumbledore and his bloody fucking duel with Grindelwald..._

"I am incredibly honored and humbled to receive-"

Tom tuned the rest out, unable to stand it. He was not surprised that Dippet seemed to glaze over all the 'tragic' events that had occurred at Hogwarts that year. As none of the students had come back as ghosts like Myrtle, time would march on as though they had never existed. The next Hogwarts history books would certainly never include them, anyway. As far as Dippet and Dumbledore were concerned, that was surely for the best – the International Council of Magical Education would be on their arses if they caught wind of half the goings-on that year. Thanks to the distraction of Grindelwald, however, it was all kept rather quiet.

It made him feel bitter for a moment, as though everything he had accomplished had been for nothing. But it wasn't; the event had brought the Knights closer than ever…and in the long run, it had brought Rosemary closer to him too. Plus, the satisfaction of getting away with it still lingered prominently in his mind.

Tom turned his attention back to Dippet, who had just announced Hufflepuff as the House Cup winner, with Slytherin coming in a close second because of the points deducted during Markus Avery's expulsion. He was just happy it wasn't Gryffindor, really.

After the feast, he stood and began to look for Rosemary only to grit his teeth in disdain as he saw Dumbledore walking his way.

"The Medal for Magical Merit is an impressive achievement, Tom. Congratulations."

Tom narrowed his eyes slightly. Was it his imagination, or did Dumbledore's compliment _actually_ seem genuine? He hoped that the professor wasn't expecting him to reciprocate, because that was most certainly _not _going to happen.

"I know you are off to find Rosemary and board the boats, but I wished to speak with you briefly before you left," Dumbledore continued. "You should know that I, like many of the faculty, am quite interested in what you will choose to pursue. I'll be watching you closely, Tom."

A sickening feeling traveled down his spine. Though Slughorn had said essentially the same thing to him earlier that morning, he knew more than enough about Dumbledore to assume that, coming from him, it could only mean something unpleasant.

Dumbledore smiled, as though to confirm Tom's thought. "Perhaps in several years you will even return to Hogwarts to accept your own Distinguished Alumni Award."

He scoffed internally. Dumbledore could try and intimidate him as much as he wanted, but Tom would come up with a few surprises of his own. With the Defense Against the Dark Arts opening that Slughorn had mentioned on the forefront of his mind, Tom said with a slight sneer, "I'm sure you'll see me back at Hogwarts even sooner than that, Professor."

* * *

"Are you ready?"

She felt Tom eyeing her carefully as she finished her cigarette, smashing it into the dusty ashtray on the windowsill. They had rented their temporary room in the Leaky Cauldron all of fifteen minutes ago. The entire day - receiving her N.E.W.T. scores, packing up her things, eating her last meal in the Great Hall, boarding the boats with the other Seventh Years - everything had passed in a whirlwind. And the whirlwind was far from over.

"Rosemary," he pressed when she didn't respond. "You know this has to be done."

"I know," she sighed. But as much as she had done to avoid the drifting of her thoughts in the direction of this inevitable encounter in the days and weeks prior, they were certainly creeping up on her now.

Soon she would be exiled from the only life she had ever known and in her parents' eyes, she would cease to be anything but a disappointing memory of a failed experiment involving an only child.

"You still want to be mine, don't you?" Tom reached up and gently tugged at the ring she wore around her neck, interrupting her from her darkened thoughts.

"Yes, of course," she answered instantly.

"Good." He pulled her face toward his for a long, passionate kiss. When his lips left hers once more, he whispered into her ear, "You know I love you more than they ever could, Rosemary."

"I know," she repeated firmly with a nod. He was right, of course; Tom was almost always right. And the truth of the matter was that she also loved him more than she ever did her parents. "Let's go."

The ringing in her ears from Apparating quickly faded as her eyes refocused on the gate that marked the edge of her childhood home. Beyond the border of hedges that showcased Zisly's artistic talents, Rosemary could see the pastel-colored blossoms of her mother's beloved gardens. It struck her that this could very well be the last time she would ever see it all in full bloom.

Her heart pounded madly in her chest with every step that they took up the long path that led to the front door. When they finally reached it, she paused and glanced back at Tom, who responded by reaching down to take her hand and placing it on the large brass handle.

_Here goes nothing…_

She threw open the door, half expecting to see her parents waiting furiously for her in the foyer after watching her and Tom walk all the way up to the manor. But instead, they were met with silence that was eerily anticlimactic.

"Rosemary, is that you?" she heard her mother's voice echo through the house as she let Tom in and closed the door behind them. "I'm in the sitting room having a drink – won't you join me?" She supposed this was nothing at all out of the ordinary so far.

Rose took a few steps inside and heard shuffling on the marble staircase as Zisly hurried down to greet her. "Oh, Miss Rosemary! Zisly missed you so much! This morning I picked your favorite flowers from the garden and made a cake to celebrate –"

The house elf froze and let out a tiny squeak when she saw Tom's tall figure standing in the foyer behind Rosemary. For a moment she seemed to be paralyzed, glancing back and forth between the two of them before turning on her heel and beginning to scurry off toward the kitchen.

Rosemary caught the back of her dress fashioned from a few old tea towels and spun her around. "Zisly, if you breathe a word of this I'll –"

"Zisly sees nothing, Miss Rose," the house elf bowed deeply, but gave Rosemary a worried look and Tom one last penetrating glance before dashing away.

"Rosemary?" her mother called again.

"Yes, I'm coming," she responded, leading Tom through the house toward the sitting room. When they reached it, she put up her hand, signaling him to wait a moment in the hallway. "Hello, Mother."

Evelyn Horton lounged elegantly in the white leather chair in the corner of the room and gazed back at Rosemary with an unreadable expression. "You brought him here, didn't you?" she asked after a long sip from her martini, finally breaking the silence.

Rosemary shot a glare at Zisly, who had just entered the room to refill the ice bucket.

"Zisly didn't betray you, dear," her mother said gently, gesturing for Rosemary to sit on the couch facing her. "I had a feeling, I suppose." Then Evelyn stood and smoothed down her dress and touched her fingers gently to her curled up-do to make sure everything was in its proper place before calling, "Please join us, Tom."

Tom slid onto the couch next to Rosemary and they exchanged a puzzled glance. Given the circumstances, her mother was acting astonishingly calm. Indeed, Evelyn just smiled at them both; a wide, gleaming smile as though oblivious to the real reason for Rosemary's return home.

"Where's Father?" Rosemary asked suddenly, itching to get this over with.

Her mother ignored her. "Tom, may I get you something? You usually take scotch, yes?"

Tom cleared his throat and shifted in his seat next to her. "You have an impeccable memory, Mrs. Horton."

She smiled. "A blessing and a curse. Zisly, go and fetch the nicest bottle of scotch Basil has in the cellar."

The room was silent from the moment Zisly went to the cellar to the moment Rosemary and Tom received their cocktails of choice.

"The ring," Evelyn began again finally. "May I see it?"

Rosemary blinked at her. How had she noticed it in its hiding place beneath the collared neckline of Rose's dress? She hesitantly slipped the chain off of her neck and placed it in her mother's outstretched palm.

As they watched her study it, the tension flowing from Tom was nearly palpable; she knew he was furious that she had dared to hand over his family ring, even for a moment. Fortunately, Evelyn seemed satisfied soon after and returned it to Rosemary with a small smile on her face.

"Let's get to business, I suppose." she finished her drink and snapped her fingers, prompting Zisly to prepare another.

"How do you mean?" Rosemary asked, still wildly perplexed as to what exactly was happening.

"We tried things your father's way and clearly that backfired, as I predicted," she replied crisply. "So instead, I've prepared an offer for you." Evelyn snapped her fingers and a long sheet of parchment drifted over from the coffee table.

Rosemary read the title aloud: "_'Contract_ _for Authorized Extramarital Affairs' _– what in the hell is this?"

"This, my dear, is a way for everyone to get exactly what they want."

Rose stared back at her mother blankly.

"This is a fairly common contract that allows a pureblood husband or wife to see someone else within the agreed upon terms. Essentially you would still marry a pureblood, probably a closet homosexual or someone else seeking this sort of agreement, but you would still be free to continue seeing Tom."

"How do you – did you and Father –"

"No," her mother answered tightly. It then clicked in Rosemary's head that she had probably looked in to all of this when trying to make things work with Pierce. "Read the terms, it's all laid out right there..."

Was this a viable option? Would Tom _actually_ agree to something like this? Could she? Could this actually be the solution to everything?

But as she scanned them, her stomach fell. It had all sounded too good to be true and by the look of things, it truly was. "Section IIA," she read out loud once more, "The Affair-Seeker shall not be seen with The Lover in a public setting at any time. Public is defined as –Mother, this is ridiculous. I am not going to sign a contract that bans us from going into _public_."

"Well what do you expect?" Evelyn laughed. "It's a compromise, Rosemary."

Just reading the terms of the agreement had sparked her temper. How could her mother _possibly _expect her to agree to all of this?

"Honestly, this is just offensive," Rosemary said suddenly, feeling Tom's satisfied, somewhat relieved gaze on her as she lit the contract aflame with the tip of her wand. "Can you truly say that, if given the opportunity, you would have signed this to carry on things with Pierce? This isn't the same as _being_ with someone – surely you understand that."

"No, it isn't. And I wouldn't have signed it either." Evelyn smiled sadly. "It's just…This was the only thing I could think of that might potentially keep you from doing what I know you came here for."

Rosemary knew that Tom was getting impatient and that he clearly wanted her to get this over with, but her mother's attempt to stop her made her hesitate. Would she have gone to the trouble if she didn't care about Rose at all…?

"What in the _hell_ is going on?" Her father demanded from where he suddenly stood at the edge of the sitting room. Rosemary's stomach felt as though it had fallen all the way to the floor.

"How was work, Love?" her mother asked, jumping out of her chair to cross the room and give her husband a kiss on the cheek.

He ignored her and instead stared at Tom and Rose with a locked jaw and seething expression. Even though she knew how this was going to end, part of her desperately wanted her father to show the same understanding he had in Dippet's office when they discussed Warren and St. Mungo's. Although Tom expected her to terminate any potential contact with them, perhaps the support of her father would surprise Tom into changing his mind. Surely there was _some_ way to retain her old life with the addition of Tom…

But as she felt her father's rage-filled eyes and Tom's careful gaze on her, she knew things had escalated much too far for that to ever be the case. Just as Tom had told her in the Chamber of Secrets, she would have to choose.

"So _this_ is how you repay me – us? I thought we had reached an understanding…" A portion of her father's anger seemed to fall away momentarily with a stinging betrayal taking its place.

Her mother sighed and shook her head. "Basil, don't be a fool. I told you –"

"Not now, Evelyn," he snapped, his voice quickly rising. "The only fool here is Rosemary. Tell me, what exactly has he brainwashed you into believing? What has he promised you that is worth disgracing your name over?"

Rosemary opened her mouth to answer, but her father held up his hand. "Save it. It doesn't matter. This ends now. I swear on Merlin's grave that you will be married to a proper pureblood man by tomorrow evening. The Horton family _honors_ their blood – and it's about goddamned time that you learned that." He then turned his glare to Tom. "And _you, _you pompous half-blooded shite – I highly suggest that you get your arse off of my fucking property this instant."

Basil drew his wand, a move that evoked an appalled gasp from both Rosemary and her mother. Tom, however, seemed entirely unfazed as he lazily drew his wand as well, taking a step in front of Rosemary to shield her from any potential crossfire. She could feel Tom's temper rising and knew that if she didn't act soon, he would take matters into his own hands.

"And if I no longer consider myself a Horton?" she stepped out from Tom's protective shadow, drawing her own wand and aiming it toward her father while her other hand pulled out the ring from under the neckline of her dress.

Something seemed to break beyond Basil's eyes as he stared back at the small piece of jewelry. But what began as disbelief quickly warped into profound sadness and then an expression of fury so intense that Rose could see him shaking slightly. "This ends now," he repeated, taking a step closer to them with his eyes locked on Tom. "_Avada_ –"

"_Expulso!_" she shouted in panic as she and her father were both promptly knocked onto their backs.

Tom was at her side shortly after, helping her to her feet with a proud expression glued on his handsome face. Rosemary looked up at him in disbelief. Why had he done _nothing_ when her father had quite clearly been about to hit him with the Killing Curse?

But his satisfied expression held her answer: he had wanted her to take care of this on her own. He wanted her to prove that she could do it without his help.

She glanced away from him to see her mother drop to her knees, kneeling over her father and Zisly hurry over to them, promptly bursting into tears. Tom grabbed her hand and began leading her out of the sitting room, but her eyes never left her father, who appeared to be unconscious with a light stream of blood flowing from his right eye down over his cheekbones.

Her mother shot her a horrified expression before shrieking at the top of her lungs, "Get out!"

* * *

"A gin and tonic – a bit extra on the gin if you would be so kind," she heard Tom order from the bar when they arrived back at the Leaky Cauldron.

She kept wondering when the guilt would kick in and replace this strange emptiness in her heart, but it never came. She felt nothing.

A couple of minutes later, a familiar touch traced the back of her shoulder and she saw a drink slide in front of her. "You did very well Rosemary," she heard him say. "They deserve far worse for everything they've put you through."

"What now?" she asked him, her voice expressionless.

"Now," he tilted her chin up with the tip of his long index finger, forcing her to look straight into his soothing gaze, "We start over."

* * *

_"You forget the life you had before, after awhile. Things you cherish and hold dear are like pearls on a string. Cut the knot and they scatter across the floor, rolling into dark corners never to be found again. So you move on, and eventually you forget what the pearls even looked like. At least, you try." - Diana Gabaldon_

* * *

**A big thank you to MissVolturiKingsFan, Alice Helena, Oksanallex, slacker4life, Lady Ravanna, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, AmandaNeko21, Sam, HypocriticalCommunistFromSpace, marly4077, borkchop, ecl123, and broslyn137 for your reviews! Much appreciated, as always. **

**So, I have a bit of bad news. Real life is sort of kicking my ass right now and there are a lot of things I need to focus on besides writing. There will definitely still be updates, but perhaps a bit more sporadically than they have been in the past (probably once every couple of weeks or so). Sorry about this, but sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do.**

**On to happier news - only nine chapters are left in Part II, but I still have plenty in store for you all! Thoughts? Predictions? Thanks so much for taking the time to read my story! :D**


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